Endwar Chronicles Block IA
by Standardised Lambency
Summary: Here it is. Valkyria Chronicles and Endwar again. WW3 is at a tipping point. A dead research program is hijacked unwittingly and spirits away three armies that will change a different world. The Joint Strike Force, Enforcer Corps and Spetsnaz Guard Brigades each find themselves embroiled in a new war in a new world very different, but yet oddly familiar.
1. Opening Shots

**Valkyria Chronicles is owned by Sega. Ubisoft owns Tom Clancy's name and Endwar. **

**Here's the beginning of the new Endwar Chronicles. I cannot apologise enough for keeping everyone waiting for such a long time. Motivation comes and goes unfortunately as does the time to write.  
**

* * *

**March 15, 1935**

**Southern Gallian-Imperial Border**

Major General Radi Jaeger, Southern Command stood outside in the rain despite the insistence of his staff to return to the shelter. At precisely 0200 hours that morning Imperial forces would cross Gallia's borders on the orders of Prince Maximilian. Minimal resistance was predicted from the little country's standing army and militia.

That was all irrelevant when he considered the amount of firepower that was levelled against the Gallians. Over 3000 artillery pieces, 1800 multiple rocket launchers and 20 000 mortars were organised by Maximilian's Drei Stern over the months leading up to this moment. An average of 600 tubes was positioned at the border per kilometre and the crews could fire an average of four salvos a minute and each salvo consisting of about 2000 tonnes of high explosives… Annihilation was the only word he thought was fitting.

The general looked over at his command staff who were huddled in the cramped comfort of the command vehicle. He made eye contact with the closest officer and tapped his right index finger into his left palm. The man reluctantly pulled on a rain jacket, took out a waterproof map and ran out to join him in the rain.

"In 5 minutes we will commence firing. Send out a scouting element here. There's sure to be Gallians in the forest," Jaeger marked the spot on the map. "When they make contact, send reinforcements, I'm sure they'll be needed. The first echelons should be twenty or so klicks deep by sunup. Don't forget which order as well."

"I'm sure everyone knows their part," replied the officer confidently.

"Good, you're dismissed."

They exchanged salutes and man gratefully returned to his shelter.

Jaeger checked his watch and followed the seconds hand as it reached the 12.

At that very moment the field around him erupted with light as every artillery piece in the camp fired at the same time. The shaking of the ground startled the men in the command vehicle but Jaeger did not flinch. Already a trio of vehicles were moving at top speed towards the border.

* * *

Meanwhile just over the border in the forest known as the Kloden Wildwood a five member militia fireteam was scurrying to complete the meagre defence against the invading Imperials. Crouched behind a fallen log Hermes Kissinger stared east in the direction of the Imperials. A few days and nights of non-stop reconnaissance had revealed a battalion of tanks, troops and other assets massing along the border. Similar reports were relayed back to the headquarters at Fort Amatrian but it was only at the last minute that action was being taken.

"What on earth was going on back there?" he asked Catherine O'Hara next to him, "Surely General Damon had an idea of what's facing us?"

"You know how unreliable the brass can be when it comes to unpleasant news like this," she answered.

"Tell me about it," whispered Hannes Salinger as he ran up and stopped beside them.

Somehow the majority of the military leadership, General Georg von Damon worst of all, refused heed the warnings from the diplomats and intelligence agencies about the Empire's sudden change in tone towards Gallia ever since the Second Europan War commenced. Only now were the hasty preparations being made.

The three of them turned their eyes back to the front as they heard Theold Bohr cursing at Herbert Nielsen.

"Hurry up with that, I swear every time I look away from you to watch YOUR back I see you trying to nod off," snarled Theold as he shifted his lancer from shoulder to shoulder.

His hair, normally standing up and proud was plastered flat against his head and this served to make him all the more grouchier.

"Watch what you say Theold, it takes time to lay these things. I need to move slowly so I don't set this thing off and this happens to be tiring work," retorted Herbert as he laid the last mine.

The three behind the log didn't know whether to sigh with relief that the minefield was complete or to curse with frustration at the amount of bickering the lancer and engineer had engaged in. Herbert was a good engineer most of the time but his apathy and sheer laziness meant that it would take at least a week to complete such a task. Theold who was known to be harsh and confronting around everyone was sent to ensure he stayed on task. The arguments they had up there kept the rest of the fireteam from sleeping.

"Finally," whispered Catherine as the lancer returned, dragging Herbert behind him.

"Got the detonator?" asked Hannes.

Herbert's face remained impassive.

"You didn't bring it then." Hermes came to the same conclusion as everyone else. "In that case I'm not going in there."

"Dibs not getting it," said Hannes.

"Hopeless dimwit, I'm not going back out there again," spoke Theold.

"Same here," Herbert added.

"Like hell, you left it so you're going back to get it." Theold gave him a hard shove but he refused to budge.

Hermes, Catherine and Hannes each gave a sigh as their younger comrades bristled and prepared turn on each other. No one was in a good mood because of the rain which was pounding so heavily the tree branches above appeared to bend.

"Alright cool it boys, I'll go and get it," Catherine interjected before the situation could escalate, "Make sure to keep Theold and Herbert apart," she said to the scout and shocktrooper.

She clambered over a log, struggling to get a grip on the wet bark and almost fell over the other side onto a field of mud. Catherine quickly regretted volunteering. Out here where the trees were thinnest the rain acted as a physical force which threatened to push her feet first into the sucking mud which was almost knee deep. Squinting ahead, she pushed through the mud and darkness before reaching the boundary of the minefield which was marked with a rotting tree stump.

"There it is," she thought as she snatched up the bulky handheld device, the wire attached to it disappeared into the mud where twenty anti-personnel mines were concealed.

She looked up as a flash of light in front caught her eyes.

"_Was that lightning?_"

The noise of distant explosions from behind and the thunder that buffeted Catherine from the front proved otherwise. The mud all around her feet sloshed upwards, splashing her uniform. For a moment she feared that the mines would go off but thankfully nothing happened. Pulling the scope off her rifle she scanned east towards the Imperial border. Just then the east lit up again. There was no mistaking it; the Imperials were firing the opening shots of an invasion. She caught her breath as soon she saw the two vehicles approaching.

As soon as Catherine returned the rest of the team was almost in a state of panic.

"Snap out of it guys." she knew she had to take charge as the most senior member. "The Imperials are sending a pair of scout vehicles our way. I think there's another one bringing up the rear that's all we need to worry about for now."

"What about the shelling?" asked Hermes.

"It's probably the rear-enders getting hit, they sounded like heavy artillery," answered Hannes.

"Well he's right, I just saw the Imperials firing the big guns back there," Catherine grimaced, "Still we can't let those scouts get through."

"But you said they were travelling on wheels. Dammit! I knew those mines were a waste of time," exclaimed Theold angrily.

Herbert didn't say anything, for some reason the rumble of artillery fire was a lullaby.

"Wake that lazy bastard," said Catherine, "I know what we can do, ok. I'll nail the gunner of the first vehicle. Theold take the second car as soon as I fire. When the infantry dismount from the first, wait until they're within the minefield before we detonate them. You got that Herbert?"

"Yeah, yeah," he grunted without looking up.

"Then we open up on the survivors," added Hannes, completing the plan.

"Exactly," said the sniper.

Hermes chimed in helpfully, "I got an idea, time your shot with the sound of those explosions; it takes about 12 seconds after each flash for the noise of the guns to reach us so you can disguise your shot and throw them off."

"Yeah I know that trick, though it was with lightning and thunder, not heavy guns. I suppose it should work. Let's get ready for them and don't forget we need to break contact and fall back as soon as it gets rough," Catherine concluded.

"You'd forgotten the third one," said Theold, "I only got one working shot here."

Everyone gulped at this except the sniper who answered, "Their vehicles can't follow us back to our rally point. The trees and mud will see to that and their infantry won't the heart to pursue us either."

The others looked back at her dubiously before one by one, they turned their attention back to the front. Catherine after all survived the last Imperial invasion. A few minutes later the five of them leaned up against the log, occasionally one of them would reach over and tap the Herbert on the shoulder to wake him up. Their weapons were aimed towards the clearing with the mines, anticipating the arrival of the Imperials. The distant artillery continued to fire, a flash accompanied with a loud boom which followed about twelve seconds afterwards. The rain had lightened considerably and Gallians were grateful for the increased visibility. At that moment the rumbling of a wheeled vehicle was audible. Here they come, they all thought. The headlights of the scout vehicles came into view, a manned heavy machine gun with an attached searchlight on each panned left and right. The lead car slowly advanced into the minefield. The second one stopped behind and to the left of the lead, providing cover as the other moved forward.

The flash appeared again, the searchlight of the lead car swept over the log. Catherine started counting down but squinted as she was dazzled by the searchlight.

Seven

Six

Her eyes needed time to readjust after her natural nightvision was ruined by the sudden brightness.

Five

Four

Three

The lead car started to move a little faster, it was right in the middle of the mine cluster.

Two

The light returned and stayed there.

One

She pulled the trigger just as the thunder erupted again. In her sights the searchlight swung up as the gunner fell back with a bullet to the throat. A split second later Theold fired his lance at the other stationary vehicle. The small warhead easily penetrated the light armour before exploding inside. The light from the explosion illuminated the clearing, revealing the soldiers piling out the doors of the first vehicle. The Gallians waited a few seconds for the Imperial infantry to fan out.

"Now!" mouthed Hannes.

Herbert turned the switch on the detonator and an ear-splitting roar erupted as all the mines went off simultaneously right below the hapless Imperials. Once the smoke and mud was clear the entire scouting unit was either dead or seriously wounded.

Hermes stuck his head up and peeked over at the enemy positions only to duck as a bullet hit the log in front of him.

"There are more of them…at least six," he was clearly shaken by the near miss.

"I'll take care of them," Hannes stood up and opened fire with his Mags submachine gun. He could see dark silhouettes up ahead taking cover as best they could in the muddy, torn up clearing. The rest of the fireteam stood up and opened fire; Hermes and Herbert with their Gallian-A rifles, Catherine with her GSR sniper rifle and Theold with his sidearm pistol.

One of the Imperials lobbed a grenade which exploded just short of the log the fireteam was using for cover but the force was enough to roll it over, forcing the Gallians to reform their skirmish line. Another set of lights appeared and armoured personnel carrier joined the fire fight, its mounted gatling cannon adding to the volume of fire directed at the outnumbered defenders Hermes responded by firing a Randgrizer rifle grenade, scattering the enemy soldiers.

"That thing has armour! Should have saved that last shot!" Theold shouted in frustration, emptying a clip from his pistol.

Catherine tried to get a bead on the gunner on the APC but the flashes from the firefight made it near impossible. It didn't help that he swivelled his weapon about regularly, sweeping its attached searchlight around in addition to the volley of bullets.

Gritting her teeth in frustration she cried out, "Need a smoke on that PC!"

Hermes complied, peeking over the stump behind which he'd crouched before lobbing a smoke grenade it so it fell in front of the vehicle. A few seconds and opaque cloud was thick enough to obscure the gunner's view while scattering his light and making it difficult for the other Imperials too. The APC driver advanced; wanting to move beyond the smoke but the ground gave way five metres ahead, trapping the vehicle's front in a muddy depression.

"Peel back now!"

Theold who stood at the end of the line on the right ceased firing, turned, tapped Herbert on the shoulder before retreating ten metres to the back and left of Hannes who stood at the other end of the line and resumed firing. A few seconds later Herbert did the same, tapping Catherine on the shoulder and retreating so he was on the left of Theold. The pattern continued until the whole fireteam had retreated without ceasing their suppressive fire on the enemy. The manoeuvrer continued until the Gallians had fallen back a hundred metres. By the time they stopped they could faintly hear the Imperials calling for reinforcements and medical support.

"Alright! Seems like we'd given those Imps a bloody nose!" exclaimed Theold, clearly relieved like the rest of them.

The others furiously motioned for him to quieten down while Catherine listened on her radio headset for a minute and snapped her fingers to draw everyone's attention, "We're withdrawing to Phase Line Bravo, we've been hit hard everywhere we share a border with the Imps."

Without a word the Gallians trekked west along a muddy forest path and found their jeep which was hidden under a camouflaged tarp beside a paved road. The fireteam then began the journey back to the dubious safety of friendly lines.


	2. The NUB

**Make sure to check out my profile poll on the way out. What is your opinion on Isara's fate?  
**

* * *

**28 August, 2020**

**Forward Operating Base McMasters – Coast of Flanders, Belgium**

The United States Joint Strike Force is the first and last line of defence for their nation. The three way war between Russia, the US and the European Federation had been ongoing for three and a half months. Within the first three weeks of fighting, munitions expenditure for all involved had exceeded overoptimistic initial estimates. Two and a half months of fighting had already bled the three superpowers of their finest troops. With each passing week, another failed state was added to a growing list as the global economy began unravelling.

The 29th Airborne and 18th Assault Joint Strike Force battalions were partially composed of fresh but well trained recruits. To compensate for the general lack of combat experience they had to include combat veterans from other JSF units. The 29th and 18th were to strike at the heart of the European Federation capital, Paris while their flanks were protected by the Army's 112nd Brigade Combat Team and 33rd Marine Expeditionary Unit. Consistent strategic bombing raids had forced the Europeans to shift their military headquarters first to the old NATO command at Brussels and then to Strasbourg. Paris was the political heart of the Federation. With Berlin under Russian occupation once again and the European populace weary of the war, the loss of Paris would knock the Federation out of the war.

The USS Enterprise (CVN-65) the oldest super carrier in the US Navy floated serenely off the coast of Belgium along with the rest of its carrier strike group. Following her retirement in 2013 and halfway through her decommissioning five years later she was recalled into service. This was because of a combination of cyberattacks and suicide bombings occurring at several shipyards constructing modules for the latest Ford class carrier. Rebuilding what couldn't be repaired was too expensive. The half gutted Enterprise was placed under the Service Life Extension Program; modules from the incomplete carrier were retrofitted onto the old carrier so that the same design principles of the Ford carriers could be implemented. For all intents and purposes, it was a new carrier. A brand new and vital feature was the pair of laser emitters known as the Skater system, mounted discreetly below the radar array on the island. The Skater was of a similar design to the American satellites from the SLAMS system, used to intercept ballistic missiles.

Her formidable defences, in addition to that of her task force were here for the purpose of screening the forces being deployed on European soil. Forward Operating Base McMasters was the centre of all this activity. Military Sealift Command vessels did most of the heavy lifting while the Marines deployed from the USS Nasiriyah. FOB McMasters consisted of several hastily laid airstrips alongside prefabricated buildings while more was being unpacked from the ships. Transport aircraft from Air Mobility Command were already making supply runs non-stop through the Greenland-Iceland-UK airbridge. While this was all happening, basic fortifications around the base were being established while patrols and recon aircraft were scouting for any enemy presence.

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Allen Reyes, the member of a Joint Strike Force Operational Detachment Team was being sent on one of these. As the youngest member at 22 out of the whole 12 strong unit; West Point, then the extremely intense JSF training curriculum between Fort Campbell and Maxwell AFB had prepared him for many things but not for making an ass of himself in front of a bunch of hardened soldiers.

He didn't have a chance to meet his team until stumbling out of a C-17 into a tent. The squat, powerfully built Captain Franks, the ODT's CO gave him a once over. His disapproval was evident from the badly disguised scowl after Allen introduced himself with his best salute. This impression was further reinforced when he wordlessly led him over to meet the rest of the team. The reception from the other men was just as cold. He met them in the armoury tent where they were lounging about, cleaning their weapons. An awkward silence followed which was only broken by the sound of gun parts clicking together or a muttered curse as someone spilled a bottle of cleaning oil.

"So… am I the FNG here?" asked the newcomer, hoping to break the silence.

"We don't use that term no more," answered a sunglasses wearing sergeant, "it's NUB, New Useless Bitch."

"Now that you've gotten yourself familiarised," said the captain, clapping Allen hard on the shoulder, "We're up for patrol duty. With luck we might find some troublemakers just for you."

* * *

**Darmstadt Space Centre – Darmstadt, Germany**

In 2016, the European Federation Space Authority was born from the amalgamation of several European Union agencies, the space programs of all EU members and the European Defence Agency and European Space Agency. The big decisions and funding came from the headquarters in Paris. The Matera Flight Laboratory and the launch facilities at Guiana and Curaçao sent the rockets up with their passengers and payloads but the action was directed from Darmstadt; both scientific and military. That made it a target even before the outbreak of hostilities. Cyberattacks were regularly countered and the physical security was upgraded significantly following attempts at intrusion by agents of varying allegiances. A significant gendarme detachment guarded the sprawling walled installation. In case of a crisis, a company strength Quick Reaction Force from the Enforcer Corps was only 6 minutes and 3.8 seconds away at their fastest by helicopter. If it got worse, then a European Army battlegroup would join the fray within the hour. By then, all data would have been wiped with the backups and functions being transferred to offsite via the Federation's network of Uplinks.

It was in the early morning that the unthinkable occurred. It started with gunfire in one of the vital buildings deep inside the complex. Security forces responded immediately, evacuating all personnel and surrounding off the four storey building which was taken over by a team of gunmen. From CCTV, it was estimated there around twenty to thirty of them with eleven hostages. Nothing could be identified of them except that they were using a mix of old weapons such as Afghan war vintage M4s and early make G36 rifles from the few bodies of the terrorists recovered.

Major Joaquin Silva of the Enforcer Corps QRF pensively turned over a broken, ten year old HK416 rifle, wrapped in a forensic bag before putting it down on the table in front of him. At the end of the boulevard across from the parking garage where a temporary command centre was set up, he could see the Tactical Satellite Operations Annex where the terrorists had holed up. Roadblocks, troops and Panhard VBLs from the Army battlegroup already clogged the road. He couldn't see it from here but on the tactical map he could see other units surrounding the building. The sightlines of all sniper teams were displayed as lines which criss-crossed across the boulevard. So far, no one had managed to find an opening. The rest of Silva's team was waiting on the level above, on the one above that there was the helicopter ready to send them in.

"We've got a change in the situation," reported Silva's assistant, pointing over to the team managing the crisis.

"Alright. Let's see what they've managed to come up with this time," he grumbled, following him.

That was exactly the last place he needed to be. The QRF was supposed to deal with any threat as it was unfolding. However just as he'd arrived with his team in the record time of 5 minutes and 49 seconds, his orders were to stand down and the helicopter dropped him off another rally point instead of the target building. After that, he'd to meet with and help formulate a new assault plan with the newly formed crisis team. The terrorists had already held the building for four hours while the liaisons from the various agencies involved bickered about a potential solution. Silva had drawn up his plan quickly based on the building blueprints and the CCTV footage but that was rejected an hour ago after a good thirty minutes of debating. To his surprise, the people were clustered around laptop computer, watching something.

They stood aside to let him through, as the senior officer representing the Enforcer Corps, Major Silva's position demanded priority. It also helped that he would be the one risking his life in the assault, if ever there was one, out of all those present. What everyone found shocking on screen didn't faze him at all. It was another CCTV vision. One of the terrorists, perhaps their leader, was at seated in front of a workstation. Someone muttered a comment about the importance of the facility. Spinning around and pushing aside the laptop, Silva drew up to his fullest extent. All six feet and five inches of Portuguese commando.

"What exactly are they doing?" he asked, raising his voice when he was sure he had their undivided attention.

"We're not sure at the moment. Bottom line is that he could get up to all sorts of mischief inside," someone answered.

"That should not be a problem, the building's supposed to be secured away from the network," said Silva in puzzlement as he stole another glance at the screen.

"Look at the time on it though."

Silva picked up the laptop and stared at the time displayed in the corner from the camera footage. The time says it's taking place four hours ago. He looked at his watch, then the screen and then he went back to the very minute he was roused from a paperback in his quarters. The footage was taking place only a minute before the first alarm went out. Just enough time before all communications to the building were cut.

"We only just got this in now," said Silva's assistant, "we were too late to prevent whatever damage he's done in that time before the network cut him off."

Holding in a breath, Silva quickly blocked out the discussion going on around him before he called them to attention again. He had a new assault plan ready and this time they would have no choice but to agree.

* * *

Half an hour later the team sat in three up armoured Humvees, taking a forested path south of the FOB. For Allen it felt like crap having to go through one of the world's most intensive training programs only to be looked down upon by the soldiers he was trying to emulate. He looked out the window to distract himself, low thick vegetation all around.

"A perfect place for an ambush isn't it?" said the sergeant who driving; he was the same man who wore the sunglasses earlier.

"You read my mind," answered Allen. He turned his head to face the sergeant, remembering his name as Terry.

"It was like this in when we went upriver an insurgent sweep upriver on the Amazon. Mostly holdouts from that outfit from southern Colombia ten years ago you remember? Doesn't stop them from trying to jump us from the riverbed like gators… Course, here we don't have to contend with no piranhas, leeches, gators or snakes," the sergeant continued before adding, "especially the bugs."

"Remember when we warned Sanchez not to piss into the water right when he was doing exactly that?" asked one of the men in the back.

"Ahh yeah, that was fricken hilarious man, jumped a foot in the air and damned near pissed all over himself. I still can't believe he fell for that," another laughed. This was followed by a fist bump with the soldier who brought it up first.

"What was that?"

Allen was curious about what could scare a spec-ops soldier in such a manner.

"Well, these two back here thought it would be a great barrel of laughs to feed Corporal Sanchez who's no longer with us, god bless his soul; some disinformation," Terry smiled as he began his anecdote, "Basically there's a myth that a small fish-like thing… I can't remember its name. Well, it's attracted to urine or something in it, so it'll swim up your urethra if you piss on its home."

"I know I wouldn't want that happening to me," said Allen, genuinely shocked.

"Normally this story would have a moral, don't piss on nature or it'll get back at you in the nastiest way possible," continued the sergeant.

"But it really isn't true," said one of the men behind.

"Which made it all the better because we told him as soon as he had calmed down," said the other.

"You guys reckon you're real bunch of laughs don't you?" Terry grinned, "What if I told you he dragged your sleeping asses into the path of some driver ants that evening?"

The uproar that followed distracted everyone from their vigil as a pair of MILANA-2 missiles reached out from the trees lining the road to the left. The missile gunners deliberately flew the missiles low so they could avoid the Humvees' active protection system. The lead vehicle caught a missile on the tyres, flipping it over. A noise resembling a thunderclap from the rear indicated a similar fate for the Humvee behind.

"Out! Out!" shouted the Sergeant. Immediately the two soldiers in the rear opened their doors and leapt out firing their rifles into the tree-line.

Allen opened the door while activating his Cross-Com unit. It was an important component of the Integrated Warfighter System that was integrated into his uniform, helmet, armour and weapons. The most visible part of the IWS system was the monocular head mounted display or visor covering his left eye. The device projected a low-intensity laser into his retina which providing him with a 3D heads-up display, creating an augmented reality. Real-time data was streamed between him and his commanders, friendly soldiers and vehicles and other assets like UAVs, drones and satellites. The system was essentially a wireless LAN/WAN for soldiers and vehicles on the field, allowing for greater flexibility, ease of issuing orders and access to crucial intelligence.

Raising his SCAR-A1 assault rifle his shoulder he quickly identified several moving targets in the bushes, outlined with red silhouettes on his HUD. He squeezed off his shots in bursts as his instructors reminded him during the VR sessions. Two of the figures went white and disappeared to indicate two killed. Allen looked over at Terry who had run around to join him on the other side and was firing his weapon.

"Lieutenant! We must check on the others," he called out and nodded over to the lead Humvee which was a gutted smoking wreck. According to the Cross-Com's Augmented Reality two of the occupants were still alive which was denoted with a heartbeat status next to their name.

"Good idea," Allen agreed breathlessly.

He turned to look at the other two men; the AR identified them as SGT Benton and CPL Ortega.

"Give us some covering fire while we cross over to that Humvee!" he ordered, "As soon as we are over we'll cover you so you can check on the other one!"

"Roger that," they replied and started firing in the direction of the enemy.

"Let's go!" shouted Terry as led the way.

"Shit!" Allen inadvertently blurted as he ran from cover and heard the snap of bullets hitting the pavement behind him. Before he knew it he had slid into cover behind the wreckage of the lead vehicle.

"Ok, on three, two, one, go!" the sergeant started shooting and Benton and Ortega started moving to the last Humvee wreckage.

"Help me out here Lieutenant!" Allen heard Terry shout.

"Alright!"

He stood up and joined in the sergeant in shooting, bracing himself against the hammering of the rifle against his shoulder. Another two red diamonds disappeared, there were only four left. Just then the heartbeat status of Benton and Ortega flat-lined along with everyone else except for Allen and the sergeant.

* * *

Meanwhile back at the USS Enterprise one of officers summoned the captain over to the console he was working at.

"Yeah what is it?" asked Captain Gordon Navarro, looking over the shoulder of the officer

"Sir, we're getting higher than usual electromagnetic interference with our arrays across the board. I've already checked with the other ships and the air force guys and they're getting it too."

"Euros must be trying to jam us, I thought everything was EMP hardened?" he suggested.

"Unlikely, this is affecting us even on the channels that we formulated since we left Iceland, the Euros won't have enough time to crack them and besides we haven't even used them until a few days ago."

"Solar flares then," the captain concluded.

"I concur, I checked with for any atmospheric EM disturbances that could be caused by a high magnitude EMP but its field of effect and strength is growing at a rate that cannot be man-made. I calculated that we'll lose communications in 15 minutes at this rate"

The captain grunted, inwardly pleased with the initiative of the staff that he felt blessed to be commanding.

"It's out of our hands then, we'll have to sit it out until it passes." he said, "We should let everyone know before they panic when we lose comms."

* * *

A second after the stun grenade went off, Major Silva, rolled into the control room of the annex, the last unsecured room. There was just one person he could spot amongst the rows of computer consoles. The last terrorist leader went down with three bullets in the chest, the last one cutting into his neck and severing the spinal cord. The body flopped down the stairs as Silva and his team rushed to check it was clear. Meanwhile over his AR audio-visual suite he was alerted that the hostages had been moved to safety and the battlegroup awaiting the all clear from him.

Silva wasn't yet ready. Grabbing the corpse of the terrorist leader, he ripped the balaclava and helmet off before staring into the dead, unfocused eyes. Tilting the head to the side, he felt a dribble of blood from the corner of the dead man's mouth. Silva's treatment of the body didn't have any meaningful purpose to him other than to give the other people watching through his helmet cam a good look at the face.

"They recognise him as one of the staff. Civillian. High level clearance," said the voice on the other end.

"Shit," muttered the major in his native tongue and then kicked the corpse in the head, "Fucking traitor."

"Intel just flagged his 2iC as Green Brigade Transnational."

Silva was tempted to boot the head into one of the gigantic screens covering the wall opposite. The crisis team wanted him to go over to see the work station they'd seen the terrorist leader operating earlier. The network to the rest of the facility wasn't yet online. Silva had undergone intensive training in order to hack Uplink facilities but he had might as well be reading Urdu. Fortunately his helmet cam captured everything on screen while he followed the instructions on his radio.

* * *

"You worked out what's happening?" asked one of the officers gathered around the briefing table once Major Silva was finished on the other end.

The Darmstadt facility director sighed and then held up a finger as she received a phone call. Everyone waited expectantly as she returned and slumped into a chair.

"Alright. To put it simply, he was checking the queues on our remaining satellite assets. We can only imagine why. But then he found and reactivated the CD/5P Constellation Project."

The military man who asked replied, "Never heard of it."

"It's a joint venture between the Federation Space Authority and CERN currently on hold," said another man in a suit this time, "Also putting it simply, it's a relativity experiment conducted using several particle beam emitting satellites. Of course, these are nowhere near as powerful as those used in military applications."

Everyone started speaking again a moment before it quietened down.

"Can we shut them down?" asked another member of the team.

"The satellites involved in that project haven't been activated for a while but we'll need to get Tactical Satellite Ops up and running first before we can shut them off. Right now, we don't even know what he's doing with the satellites other than switching them on. We're transferring functions from the Uplink backup nodes as we speak," said the director of Darmstadt, getting to her feet.

* * *

A piece of shrapnel bouncing off a sheet of metal caught Sergeant Terry under the chin. Allen stared in shock at the surreal mess where a human face once was on the dead man. Nausea sent him sinking to his knees. Biting his lips he forced himself to open his eyes and check his AR. Flatline.

At that moment Allen heard voices from the other side of the road. They were taunting voices, calling out in accented English, beckoning him to surrender. A few minutes passed and then the voices called out again, speaking a foreign language. The AR gave a rough translation for him, the text appearing at the bottom of the HUD.

"Hold it before throwing it in case he throws it back."

"Right then."

Allen checked the ammo counter for his rifle but he had less than half a magazine left. Spitting blood from his lower lip and trying not to look at Sergeant Terry's mutilated face Allen reached over to his body and tried to prize a magazine from his webbing.

At that moment the Cross-Com filled with wild static and a bizarre ringing noise filled Allen's ears. He suddenly felt dizzy and his eyes started to blur as he lost control of his body and slumped over. He could vaguely hear the sound of an explosion which sounded very distant before everything went dark.

* * *

**Atlantic Ocean - 150 km from FOB McMasters**

"What the hell is that?" shouted Admiral Crowder, getting out of his seat and rushing to the front cockpit of the MV-22 Osprey aircraft.

The Osprey was supposed to take him to the Enterprise so he could resume command of the carrier strike group after a meeting with the commanders of the 6th Fleet remnant. To say that a Russian air raid on the reopened Keflavik NAS had set back his schedule would have been an understatement. Now this happens.

"Was that a nuke or a laser?" asked one of the SEAL bodyguards in the back, staring out the side windows.

The beam of light from the sky rivalled the output of the sun on a clear day. So bright that no one could definitely tell how large it was. Once everyone in the Osprey was done cringing and feeling around for eye protection, the light had dissipated.

"Contact the Enterprise!" the admiral ordered immediately.

The pilot gave a hail, waited and repeated a few times but there was no answer.

"I think we lost them."


	3. A War in Progress

**Don't forget to vote in the poll but only if you want to be spoiled or you've already finished VC1.  
**

* * *

**5 May, 1935 **

**Fort Amtriain – Randgriz, Gallia**

Captian Eleanor Varrot, tried to keep the outrage from her face as she listened to the major general in charge of the southern front, giving his evaluation of the successful Kloden mission. The objective was to retake the base in the Kloden forest in Gallia's south, thereby cutting off the Imperial north-south main supply route. It was a matter of pride to her that Squad 7 from the 3rd Regiment of the Gallian Militia had done what the regular army failed to achieve.

"I hereby conclude that Squad 7's conduct was highly inappropriate considering the fact that they allowed General Jaeger to escape. Let me remind you ladies and gentlemen that this man is the head of the Imperial Southern Command, I can only imagine the damage done to the enemy war effort on so many levels if this man were to be captured or killed," the commander concluded his evaluation, accompanied by a loud click as he snapped shut the binders on his folder.

Varrot opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"Your concerns will be taken into account," said General Damon who sat at the head of the long briefing table. A squat man with a brown goatee, he was one of the principal commanders in Gallian military.

"Captain Varrot, Squad 7 will hereby be put on notice for this incidence of under-performance. As a result I have decided to cancel all leave for the unit until they have completed their next assignment to my satisfaction. I trust that you will not allow something like this to happen again?" he said, nodding to the militia captain and sliding back across the desk, the report she'd handed at the start of the meeting.

"Yes sir, understood sir," she replied, gritting her teeth.

"Dismissed."

Varrot remained seated as she fumed inwardly at the injustice of the situation Squad 7 and she faced. Already the unit, led by 2nd Lieutenant Welkin Gunther had successfully recaptured two strategic objectives which were Vasel and Kloden. The young lieutenant at 22 had become a minor hero; this was compounded by the fact that he was the son of the war hero General Belgen Gunther from the previous war.

"_Now they're being reprimanded on a whim_," she thought angrily before looking up when she heard the voice of the Naval Reserve liaison, Commander Ruff conversing quietly to Damon.

Unlike the Militia, its maritime counterpart was smaller operated in peacetime; maintaining a flotilla of auxiliary vessels and armed merchant ships. Although its primary peacetime role was operating Gallia's merchant marine fleet and supporting the Navy, it was folded into the Navy's chain of command automatically like the Militia and the Army. Ruff's job was liaising with the Navy and handling maritime and amphibious operations for General Damon's task force. A thankless role if Varrot heard right.

"These photographs look authentic enough and we have plenty of eyewitness accounts…" said Ruff.

"Nonsense, they're not going to spare even a rowboat to check out these apparitions of yours. Don't think I'm going to help you convince the top brass either," Damon cut in, "I'm not pulling a single marine or sailor from the Marberry operation until I see our flag flying over those cliffs."

Varrot was aware of that operation which was drafted by Damon himself while Ruff was delegated with making the preparations and implementing it. The Gallian Navy would hold a perimeter against the numerically superior Imperial Navy task force just off the Marberry coast on Gallia's north coast. At the same time the Gallian Royal Marines would attempt to storm the beach and seize the bunkers lining the cliffs. It would be suicide and that admiral knew it too so Varrot understood why he was looking for any excuse to cancel or at least redraft the operation.

"With all due respect sir the reported size of this fleet could pose a serious threat to our western shoreline," the admiral persisted.

"Get someone else to do it! Take Varrot or one of the militia squads since they have nothing better to do," replied Damon as he left for the door.

A moment's awkward silence followed as Ruff stood there uncertainly and then approached the militia captain.

"_At least he has the good grace to look embarrassed_," she thought, still feeling bitter as she stood and saluted.

"I'm sorry to bother you with this but fishermen and local residents along the western coast reported seeing phantom ships along the coast," he said after returning the salute.

He sat down across from her and pulled a stack of photographs from the folder he held and slid them over. The tackiness of the surface indicated that the photos were recently developed.

After scrutinising them Varrot asked, "Just what on Earth are these?"

A distant flotilla could be seen on the horizon but they were too far away for any distinguishable details to be visible and the photos were black and white.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I would normally request the Coast Guard to handle this but I couldn't convince our navy colleagues any more than Damon. I'm afraid you're the only one who can properly investigate," Ruff answered apologetically.

The Gallian Coast Guard was the maritime counterpart to the Town Watch, except that it existed as an agency of the Naval Reserve.

"Of secondary importance are the reported sightings of several strange buildings in the vicinity. Photos included in here," he added, patting the folder under his arm, "There hasn't been any reported movement since. The earliest report was ten minutes before the meeting began."

"Very well. We'll so it sir. There's nothing planned for us so I Squad 7 can handle this," said Varrot after a moment of consideration. She stood and saluted which Ruff returned.

"Thank you Captain and by the way, I think the Militia really exceeded all expectations since the war began. Keep the good work up. Everything you need to know is in here."

They shook hands and he handed over his folder.

As he left Varrot called out, "On behalf of the Militia, sir. I'd like to wish you and your men and women good luck on Marberry."

Ruff turned and smiled sadly, "Thank you. I'll let them know they'll have the blessing of the two Gunthers."

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Welkin Gunther stood at attention in front of Varrot's desk as she slowly read and flicked through the contents of the folder she'd received from Ruff. Welkin thought that there must be something especially intriguing if she forgot that he was standing here. All his paperwork so far was only tolerable when Alicia, Largo or Faldio interrupted once every now and then.

She then looked up and said apologetically, "I'm sorry Lieutenant. I'm caught up in so many things now so please have a seat."

Welkin, relieved sat and asked, "So what is going on Captain?"

"I reported your success at Kloden to the General staff but it seems they were unimpressed with the outcomes, or what could have been," replied Varrot without looking up.

"I see," said Welkin, he could deal with this so long as it didn't affect the Squad roster.

"They have decided to cancel all leave until our next mission, that is what you're here to see," continued Varrot.

"I don't think the rest of the Squad will take this well but I'll let them know," said Welkin.

"Not everyone is as insensitive to the achievements of the Militia," Varrot cautioned, rubbing her glasses and looking right into his eyes, "this next assignment is expected to be very easy and it will probably be a break in itself as well."

She opened the folder and showed him the contents. He squinted at the photo of the phantom ships.

"Is that a pod of whales?" he suggested.

"I highly doubt it. The locals reported seeing these starting yesterday evening and these photos got here early this morning. No one dared come any closer in case they were Imperials. Strangely enough, they haven't changed position at all."

"Alright, so are we're going to see what these things are?" asked Welkin, skimming over the summary in the folder.

"Yes, they were sighted here on the western coast," said Varrot as she pointed to the map on her desk.

Welkin looked at where her finger pointed and said, "That's unoccupied territory it should be quiet out there."

"There's also been the sighting of unusual buildings in the area," the captain added, walking back over to the open folder on her desk and tapping the appropriate photo. "If this is indeed a landing force…"

Welkin looked down at the blurry images indicated but couldn't make anything out and said, "Very well. We'll call it in and try to delay them if it's really the enemy."

"Good. Move out at 1400. Hopefully there won't be any problems for you and your squad then, dismissed."

As Welkin returned to the recreation room he ran into Sergeant Alicia Melchiott, his friend from Bruhl and the dependable squad sergeant.

"I was just looking for you Welkin."

"Why's that?"

"Everyone heard that Captain Varrot got chewed out by General Damon," said Alicia who looked clearly concerned, "Apparently it had something to do with our last op."

"She told us not to worry about it, even if our leave is cancelled…"

At this Alicia's expression quickly soured but vanished almost immediately as she looked up at him questioningly.

"But we've got something else that I'm 99% sure won't involve any combat," Welkin continued, "We're going to the west coast to check out some ghost ships, if that's what they are. We need to be moving by 1400."

"Alright," she looked a little confused, "I'll get the word out to Isara and the rest; we should be up and moving in less than an hour."

* * *

Later that afternoon Welkin and the Squad 7 members who were up for ghost hunting were moving west on a main highway westwards. Just before reaching the coast they realised the road branched off, one going right and the other going left.

"Right or left?" asked Welkin as he climbed out of the hatch of the Edelweiss, a prototype tank left to him and Isara, his adopted Darcsen sister by his father.

"Left!" called Isara from inside the tank.

"I think it is right," her brother replied, stretching a little and sitting on the turret as he unfolded a map.

"'Kay, we'll go left."

"No no I mean we should go right."

"No it's left."

Alicia, Largo Potter and Brigitte 'Rosie' Stark who were in the jeep behind rolled their eyes at this. Clearly sibling squabbles will occasionally rear its head even in war.

On rare occasions Welkin and Isara in their earlier days had disagreements or took each others pranks too seriously. For example when Welkin replaced all the pencils in Isara's pencil jar with the dead stick insects from his collection, she didn't realise until she tried writing with one of them. For revenge Isara convinced Welkin the only way to attract a certain species of finch was to sit in a tree in the front yard and mimic its song while holding up a sandwich of earthworms for an hour from 6am, all in full view of the postman when he passed on his morning rounds. It took him three mornings to catch on.

A compromise was reached.

"Listen up Squad. We're going to split up for this one. Those of you who want to take the path right, follow me. Those who want to go left, go with Isara and the Edelweiss. There shouldn't be any enemies about so we should meet up at the destination unhindered. Stay alert though."

"I'll race you there Welks," Isara called out from the tank.

"It's on then," replied Welkin with a smile, he turned to the others, "Alright Rosie goes with Isara, Alicia and Largo you're with me and the rest of you sort yourselves out."

"Why do I have to go with her? The dark-hair?" complained Rosie.

Montley Leonard, Knute Jung, Rosie and Salinas Milton followed Isara in the Edelweiss and took the path left. Welkin, Alicia, Largo, Vyse Inglebard and Aika Thompson went right.

* * *

**28 August, 2020**

**Tactical Satellite Operations Annex – Darmstadt Space Centre **

Major Silva chewed quietly on an energy bar in the break room overlooking the command centre, looking through the glass as a few of the facility staff trickled in and returned to work. The last of the bodies of the Green Brigade militants were being zipped up in body bags and taken away. The Enforcer Corps QRF team was resting with him while the European Army soldiers were off securing the building and the rest of the complex.

Behind him the television was on with a live update on the situation around the globe. China's military forays against the disputed territories have failed with the loss of a carrier battle group including numerous submarines and combat aircraft. Its orbital assets and missile arsenal, especially its ballistic ship killers were rendered useless due to the American Asia-Pacific SLAMS network which extended from the Korean peninsula, Japan and the Ryukyu Islands, Taiwan, South-East Asia and Australia. With a skeleton presence in that part of the world due to the Europe First 2.0 strategy as it was dubbed by the media; America's Asia-Pacific allies could do nothing more than keeping a lid on China and North Korea. The latter had remained surprisingly quiet and passive after publicly stating its neutrality; not without the usual denunciations of the United States, South Korea and their allies.

In Central Asia, China and EF-allied India which had just declared war one week ago were attriting one another over scant energy and mineral resources unclaimed by Russia while Pakistan was embroiled in a civil war. That said, both economic powerhouses were in the midst of their own economic free fall and civil unrest was threatening to engulf them both. Both were cracking down hard and gearing up for total war, especially China after the EU weapons embargo was lifted by its successor, the European Federation; much to the extreme displeasure of China's neighbours and the United States. In the Indian Ocean, PLA expeditionary forces in East Africa had managed to destroy an Indian carrier battle group attempting to dislodge it from its main base at Camp Longwei, once Camp Lemonnier before it was overrun by Chinese marines and 15th Airborne Corps paratroopers. Another Indian carrier group along with aircraft from the subcontinent had launched a surprise attack on Diego Garcia, annihilating the American presence including the Uplinks there. A US-Australian naval task force sunk the same battle group and its accompanying submarine squadron when it repelled a similar attack on the Cocos Islands Uplink cluster a few days later. The Indian Air Force and the Navy's remaining carrier group and submarines contented themselves with harassing the remaining Chinese battle group as it guarded the convoys bringing supplies and PLA reinforcements to Africa. The scant American presence in the Indian Ocean limited to Australia and the Cocos Islands so there was little it could do.

In North Africa the US 1st Armoured Division was routed by a Federation counterattack, leading the American retreat from Morocco, Algeria and Western Sahara all the way back to Mali and Mauritania. This left Europe free from air attacks from across the Mediterranean, highlighted by the shock and awe bombardments against the naval base in Toulon, Nice AFB, Naval Station Rota and almost every Federation base within reach. In the Germany, the Europeans carried out a fighting retreat against the Russians which had achieved air parity over the entire European front. If they made a breakthrough in Germany they had a clear shot at Paris. This wasn't easy as the fighting had ground to a halt around the old East-West German boundaries. European naval supremacy in the Mediterranean meant that the Russian ground forces were bombarded into retreat in Greece and northern Italy. A furious naval and air campaign was being fought over Finland and the Baltics. There, the ground troops on either side dug in, preferring to wait in case the winter came early. That was a serious possibility since global climate change was occurring regardless of the 2018 European Energy Revolution. The same was occurring in Alaska with US and Canadian forces which had halted the Russian advance just outside Anchorage. Iceland and Greenland were both snatched from Europe, allowing the United States access to the North Sea, especially since narrowly defeating the Federation Naval Forces in a decisive battle off the Faroe Islands.

Major Silva was privy to information not yet released to the media, the internet or the public however. There was an American task force on its way to the continent behind the lines in Germany. The New Commonwealth had warned the Federation but there was little either could do until the major naval bases at Brest and Wilhelmshaven were de-mined. What aircraft the Federation could spare were mainly engaged against the Russians but already a sizeable force was being marshalled in Strasbourg to cut them off before they reached Paris. Aircraft, earmarked for North Africa were issued orders to stay and assist instead.

As he looked at the satellite image of the American task force displayed on the large screen, there was a sudden flash of light and then static. Silva shrugged, probably an American ASAT missile or satellite killer vehicle. He turned away just in time to miss the panic which erupted in the command centre below, unable to hear it through the glass.

* * *

**5 May 1935 **

**south-west Gallian coast**

Salinas was absolutely ecstatic about getting to ride in the commander's seat since Welkin was gone.

"I can't believe I'm doing this, your brother has got the best job in the world," he remark with a grin that divided his face.

"Welks actually has quite a bit of responsibility besides driving this tank. I hope he'll be alright going the other way," said Isara.

In the jeep behind Montley unsuccessfully tried to get Knute to drive faster.

"Don't be a party pooper, just overtake the Edelweiss and speed on ahead, it's a race after all."

"Like hell you young whelp, we could crash into these trees. Damnation! These roads need resurfacing," replied Knute irritably who was behind the wheel.

Rosie didn't pay any attention, preferring to doze in the back until the jeep came to a sudden halt and tossing her violently forward.

"Dammit! I knew you Darcsens can't drive…" she shouted, reached forward and pressed the horn on the jeep.

Salinas poked his head out and shouted, "Rosie darling, cut it out! You're hurting Isara's feelings and the tank too! There's a crash up ahead!"

He got out and ran onto the road, disappearing in front of the tank. A moment later Isara climbed out and followed, calling behind her, "Come on let's go!"

Without hesitation Montley vaulted out from the jeep and followed her. Grumbling, Knute and Rosie opened their doors and started jogging over to see the obstruction on the road.

Allen woke to the sound of the Cross-Com alerting him through his earpiece. He tried to lift his hands to rub his eyes but found his left armed was pinned underneath a large piece of metal which had fallen on him. As his eyes cleared he checked his AR which was warning him that the satellite uplink was down and the pressure sensors in his uniform had registered impacts across his body. 95% chance of rib cage fractures and 60% chance of a fractured left arm. Tucking his right knee under the piece of metal and with assistance from his right arm he managed to free himself and slid out. He got unsteadily to his feet and flexed his left arm which was sore but otherwise unbroken.

Looking around Allen saw the two Humvees smouldering away, the bodies lying in the bushes in front of him, the bodies of the team lying riddled with bullets on the road or charred inside the burnt out vehicles. Then he saw Sergeant Terry lying nearby with his face missing, his sunglasses lying shattered next to him. Shaking his head in disbelief, he checked the life signs of his team on his AR but all of them were dead.

At that moment he heard a shout. Turning he saw someone running up to him, the AR was unable to identify any friendly or enemy BFTCs on the person. 'Blue' Force Tracker Chips were subdermal RFID (Radio-Frequency Identification) implants for all US military personnel. They were DNA specific so they won't function if implanted in someone else while rolling encryption prevented its signal and data from being cloned.

After taking a step forward Allen was surprised at the amount of physical strength it took. The pain of having failed his team and the pain from his injuries made him feel weak and sick, mentally and physically. With great difficulty he took another step.

"Are you alright?" asked Salinas as he approached the battered stranger who was in strange gear and uniform.

Allen could see the person in a strange blue and red uniform but his eyes were blurring again. He felt someone catching him as he blacked out again.


	4. First Contact

On the road right Welkin answered the call from Rosie.

"We've come across what looked to be an ambush we can't identify the victims or the survivor," she spoke over the radio, "We're thinking of taking him back to base and towing the vehicle he was with as well. It's something none of us have seen before."

"Alright, make sure you get back safely, as soon as you drop off the survivor get over here as soon as you can," answered Welkin.

"You reckon it has something to do with the ghost ships?" asked Largo.

"Haven't a clue I'm afraid but I hope they're actually whales. Even if it really isn't the time of year for migration," he replied.

"Same here," said Aika nervously fidgeting with her rifle. It was only at Vyse's insistence that she even came along as she was terrified of ghosts.

"Aw, come on! The possibility of ghosts is what makes it exciting!" said her friend, clapping her on the shoulder.

The road unexpectedly ended at a fenced gate. Behind it several buildings were visible. Largo stopped the jeep and everyone got out, pulling out their weapons. They all eyed the unusual structures, many of which had long metallic antennae coming out the top.

"This is the place," said Alicia after consulting the map, "I can just hear the waves from here but there was no mention of any buildings around here."

"That's strange," Largo took the map and checked it too, "We're at the right place but there isn't supposed to be any village or port around for two kilometres."

Welkin glanced about before taking his cap off and scratching his head, saying, "There were reports of unknown structures in the vicinity."

"I didn't know… ghosts could… also include buildings as well," stammered Aika.

"Let's check it out Welkin!" insisted Vyse excitedly, "No point coming here and turning back now, the sea is very close."

"Alright Squad, Alicia, Aika and I will take point, Largo follow us but keep your distance at three metres minimum, Vyse will have our six, got it?" ordered Welkin.

"Are you sure I have to go in front?" whined Aika.

Alicia reassured her, "Don't worry; Welkin and I will be right next to you, I'm sure this place isn't haunted."

They approached the gate but as they came within a metre it slid open unexpectedly. Aika jumped at this but Welkin said, "Keep moving."

The gate shut behind them and this only served to get more on everyone's nerves.

"There's some sense in me that's tingling here," Vyse warned in a slow voice, as he turned, hearing a soft whirring noise from behind and to the left.

They'd only advanced along the paved road before they caught sight of what looked like a long row of large tents. The camouflage covers signalled something more ominous.

"It looks like a staging ground for an army of sorts," said Welkin, peering forward before he was interrupted.

"Did you hear that?" asked Alicia. She'd picked up the noise from earlier but it was approaching from the front.

"You hear it too?" said Vyse, raising his gun this time.

"Find some cover, it's coming closer," said the Lieutenant but realised there was none.

They all gathered in a circle, facing outwards. The whirring was coming in from all directions now and seemed to encircle the squad.

A PD-6 sentry drone suddenly appeared after turning a corner and faced the group. It was fairly small, about one and a half metres long with caterpillar treads. On top it mounted a 6.8mm minigun and a pair of rocket pods. An electronic eye scanned the humans, recognising their weapons for what they were but unable to recognise their models nor could it detect any IFF signals from the Gallians. It then followed protocol and paged the nearest security team.

The squad stared at the drone for a few moments, especially at its minigun which was pointed squarely in their direction. They all jumped when it then spoke through electronic speakers, "Please drop your weapons. You have twenty seconds to comply."

At this Aika seemed to panic, "It's possessed… it's talking… let me go!"

Largo and Vyse had to grab onto her arms to calm her down lest she try to bolt. The sudden movements appeared to provoke the robot.

In a louder tone it commanded, "Please drop your weapons. You have ten seconds to comply. Lethal force is authorised and you will be fired upon."

"Wait!" called out Welkin, "We don't mean you any harm…"

It was Alicia who dropped her weapon first.

"Welkin, that gun looks like it can going to cut us apart in a blink. I don't think it is living but I'm not about to call its bluff," she said and beckoned the others to do the same.

Welkin nodded to the other Gallians who laid down their guns and took a step back; keeping their hands where the drone could see them. Largo did so reluctantly, tossing aside his lance saying, "If only we had some cover I could have taken out that thing out. I could even take it with my bare hands."

The drone recognised the arms up as a sign of surrender and said, "A security team will be dispatched to your location, please do not move. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Do you think its ghosts we're actually dealing with?" asked Vyse.

"Clearly not," replied Welkin as a team of sentries appeared with their weapons raised.

The security team had seen the footage streamed from the drone's electronic eye after they were awoken by its alert.

"Stand down," the CO called out, issuing a voice command and the drone dropped its aggressive posture.

The Gallians relaxed a little but Welkin muttered to the others to keep their hands up and to leave the talking to him. Alicia and Largo looked about ready to object but kept their mouths shut when they saw that the guns were still trained on them.

"Identify yourselves," the officer said loudly as two his subordinates confiscated the weapons from the Gallians while the others circled around.

"I'm 2nd Lieutenant Welkin Gunther, commanding officer of Squad 7, 3rd Regiment of the Gallian Militia," answered Welkin, keeping his voice even so as not to appear intimidated.

"Gallian?" asked one soldier after a pause.

"Yes, we're members of the armed forces of the Principality of Gallia," replied Welkin who was just as confused and then saying a little indignantly, "you're standing on Gallian soil at the moment."

"Wait a second… is your country affiliated with the European Federation?" another asked, wondering if Gallia was one of those small European countries no one has ever heard of."

"European Federation?" Welkin raised an eyebrow before glancing at his comrades in confusion. "If you referring to the Atlantic Federation then we most certainly aren't."

The Americans stared at the strange, old fashioned attire of the Gallians. The Gallians stared back, taking in the Americans' unusual camouflaged uniform and their helmets.

"Tell me, where exactly is this place again?" asked the security team CO slowly.

"Continent of Europa, Principality of Gallia like I said and we're somewhere on the west coast. I can show you a map if you wish."

"That won't be necessary now. And the year?" asked the security team's CO, glancing dubiously at the weapons taken from the Gallians.

"1935," answered Welkin who shared everyone's extreme befuddlement.

"Shit… My watch says it's 2020. You'd better come with us then, we're going to take you to General Blaise," said the CO.

"Who's that?" asked Alicia.

"He's commanding the task force," the American officer answered, waving a hand about at the seemingly empty rows of tents and buildings.

"We've got Blaise's chip telling us he's incapacitated," reported one of the soldiers.

"Dammit. What the hell is going on here?" the CO asked.

* * *

After Rosie finished calling Welkin she returned to the task of policing the ambush site with Knute. Salinas was tending to the stranger in the jeep who was unconscious. Isara was examining the Humvee with Montley.

"What an unusual vehicle, its radiators are insufficient for using ragnoline," she commented while opening the bonnet. "Engine layout is unfamiliar."

She opened the fuel cap and recoiled before adding, "Uses some kind of evil smelling fuel that most likely isn't ragnite derived."

She looked up at the remote weapons station mounted on top and said, "A military vehicle obviously."

Isara pointed out the pods which were attached to the corners and the front and back of the vehicle. Which the components of the humvee active protection system against projectile attacks like missiles and shells and shaped charged explosives.

"But I don't know what these are for."

"Reckon we can tow this thing with the Edelweiss?" asked Montley, "I'm guessing Leon and Kreis will want to see it."

"It shouldn't be a problem," replied Isara, turning to go get the towing cable from the winch on the tank.

"Both of you stop fawning over that thing and help us over here!" called Rosie.

They had transferred the corpses into the boat that was being towed by the jeep. Eleven of them including the survivor had different gear and to the rest. The dead all bore injuries.

Their weapons were being gathered up as well. Rosie hefted one of these, a SCAR-A1 with a grenade launcher and an ACOG scope. It had the proportions of the Mags series machine gun she used but it also sported a grenade launcher that normally featured on scout rifles and a telescopic sight which seemed more suited to the rifles the squad snipers used. Shrugging, she slung it over her shoulder along with several others she'd found.

Besides weapons, a collection of other accessories were also found alongside these unusual soldiers. Some of them were familiar like field rations, medical kits, knives, binoculars and canteens and but others were just mindboggling to the Gallians. Foldable boards with a glass-like panel and keys similar to those on typewriters for instance.

"Just what are these things? Some of them look really expensive, I've never seen such craftsmanship before, but then they could just be ornamentation," mused Knute as he prodded cautiously on the screen of a military ruggedised tablet (MRT) he'd found.

Once they'd cleared the site Rosie contacted the nearest support unit to clean up the wreckages then the Edelweiss and the jeep set off towing the Humvee and the boat full of bodies respectively.

* * *

At Ft Amtriain, Varrot worked briskly as she filled out the forms pertaining to the discovery of the unknown soldiers and their equipment. The survivor who was identified as 2nd Lieutenant Allen Reyes by his dog tags was moved to a guarded isolation ward at the base hospital. The bodies were kept locked in the morgue. Kreis Czherny and Leon Schmidt, the R&D boys were examining the weapons and equipment as well as the vehicle Isara towed in.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come."

One of the squad medics entered and saluted, one of three identical blonde triplets named Fina, Gina and Mina.

"Yes?"

"Ma'am, the patient, Lt. Reyes has regained consciousness."

"Oh really now? I guess I'll go speak to him," replied Varrot, "what's his condition?"

"Lethargic. We have him on a 10% ragnaid drip ever since he was admitted but I don't think he'll have the strength to walk. Judging by his physical condition the doctor guessed he'll make a full recovery within a week.

Varrot followed the medic to the isolation room. A pair of MPs sitting outside the door stood and saluted. She waited for the medic to unlock the door and entered alone, shutting the door behind her.

The room was dimly lit with a shielded light, there weren't any windows. She stared over at the pale yellow curtain where the single occupied bed stood. Behind a silhouette could be seen moving about. The curtain drew back and a doctor stepped out.

"How is he?" asked Varrot.

"A few broken ribs and a sore arm, he'll get over those quickly," answered the doctor.

"Ok, I'll let you know if I need anything." Said Varrot and after the doctor left she pushed through the curtain.

Allen sat in the bed, looking out the window while his fingers fidgeted slowly with a thread from his bedsheet. His left torso was bandaged where the Humvee door had fallen and pinned him while he was unconscious. His dirty blonde hair looked unkempt and a tick pulsed under his right eye, both of them were blue and had the 1000 yard stare.

"I'm Captain Varrot. Do you know where you are?"

"It's not Kansas that's for sure," came the reply dully.

"What year do you think it is?" asked Varrot.

"2020."

"You're either insane or you are not of this world. From what we've been able to piece together you're from the United States of America, part of a military unit called the Joint Strike Force neither of which exist and yet here you are."

He didn't answer.

"We'll try and accommodate you and any survivors we find of similar association," said Varrot while she took a seat next to the hospital bed, "Hang in there in the meantime. We may be calling on you in the future."

Indeed they would have to call on him in the future. If those things were real weapons and technology, Gallia would need them in order to take the fight back to the Imperials. Failing that, they'd need a bargaining chip with the Atlantic Federation. Allen here would be the only person who could answer their questions. There was a knock at the door and Varrot got up to speak to the officer waiting for her.

"Call for you ma'am. One Major General Robert Blaise. United States Joint Strike Force. Commanding officer of Joint Task Force Acid."

* * *

**Forward Operating Base Lujbaton – Imperial-Gallian Border**

Ever since FOB Kloden was seized by Gallian forces, the Imperials were hard pressed to find another suitable location for a base in the region. It was simply too resource and time consuming to clear out the forest and establish another base so the Drei Stern had to shelve their plans to unleash a southern offensive against Randgriz and Gallia's southern cities. Such a plan however, was wishful thinking from the start. Few roads through the forest could handle the quantity of armoured vehicles required for such an operation without causing a bottleneck which would be vulnerable to attack. Nonetheless, before the fall of the base, smaller scale operations were underway in Kloden and the south, supported by small numbers of trucks braving the forest roads. Such units were generally well trained and equipped light infantry units, sometimes backed by small mechanised elements if they encountered serious Gallian resistance. This was enough to tie up some of the Gallian forces which would otherwise have joined the main fronts in the north and east. For the foreseeable future however, the south was going to be quiet, even thanks to Squad 7.

At the beginning of the invasion, FOB Olan in the Gallian-Federal-Imperial border region, was the joint staging area from which the Drei Stern and local Imperial forces launched their offensives into southern Gallia and the Federation territories respectively. It was from this base that the supplies flowed into FOB Kloden after its establishment. The grim situation for the Gallians in the south changed in their favour when the Imperials hamstrung themselves. First, the majority of the artillery units loaned to the Drei Stern from Imperial Continental Command was quickly reassigned to the greater war effort against the Atlantic Federation. Secondly, in April, FOB Olan had become an exclusive base to facilitate the invasion of the Federation, not Gallia. The Drei Stern's staff there had to vacate Olan in favour of FOB Lujbaton, just fifty or so kilometres east of the border town of Bruhl. It was from here that the 103rd Imperial Panzer Division issued forth into eastern Gallia in the opening stages of the invasion. Ever since mid-April, FOB Lujbaton supported the entire southern and eastern front. For the former, supplies were trucked under escort along endless highways of the Barious desert before filtering into the sparse road network in Kloden to reach the base there. This longer route put the plans for a southern offensive into serious doubt before the loss of FOB Kloden which was the last nail in the coffin. For that reason, Lujibaton would remain a vital base for the invasion force, totally out of reach of the Gallians and hence a comparatively safe posting.

That morning at the Lujbaton, the sense of complacency was shattered when an Imperial sentry in his watchtower saw what could only be a flying machine approaching from the north. After a frantic radio call to his superiors, the sentry sent out a general alarm. This galvanised everyone on site into action. Some went for bunkers which were hardened against artillery. Others went for their guns and vehicles and wired up the supplies, equipment and fuel that could be used by the enemy. Documents, cypher devices, codes and other sensitive material were also prepared for destruction.

The Russian Ka-65 Howler helicopter hovered in mid-air as the crew radioed back to Kbley Air Force Base, or at least that was the name of the base from which they'd come. Neither of them recognised the landscape as Czech when they'd set out. While they waited for a reply, the pilot suddenly saw a flash and pulled the helicopter away as a lance zoomed right by. Immediately the gunner fired the nose mounted cannon at the tower from which the lancer had fired. As the structure came crashing to the ground, the gunship released the fury of its arsenal on the base. First its cannons shredded the administrative building before firing a slew of rockets into the motor pool. On the ground, the Imperial troops scattered. The few which were prepared to fire their lances at the flying monster suddenly dropped their weapons and cowered. As the gunship's cannon cut through a series of fuel depots, the stand down order arrived on the radio. A voice bellowing desperately to the helicopter crew to cease their attacks. Both Russians paused for a moment and shrugged. They were wasting ammunition after all but that brilliant blue set of explosions was seriously beautiful to observe in a perverse sort of way. The helicopter ascended to a safe altitude out of weapon range and waited while the Imperials rapidly abandoned the base like ants escaping a drowning nest below.


	5. Boardroom first, Fighting next

**Fort Amtriain – Randgriz, Gallia**

It didn't take much to get General Damon riled up, although many on the task force staff including Varrot would have found it incredibly satisfying to push him into a premature heart attack or stroke. The general initially took no interest in the discoveries of the day until Varrot made a complete report on the matter of the Joint Strike Force in a late afternoon meeting.

"What!" Damon screeched, "Why is it that I'm hearing about this now!" He pointed an accusing finger at his intelligence officer.

Indeed Varrot had taken a coffee break opportunity to get together everyone on the staff and inform them of her discoveries. Each of them had a copy of the report except Damon who had his chance to read it just now. She hadn't yet gone over Damon's head to the General Staff about it either.

"We have one of them here as well? Transfer him immediately to the detention block, have an armed guard…"

"We shouldn't do anything that drastic right now," one of the officers interrupted, "right now we are treating him as a guest. Do you think his affiliates will appreciate it if we treat him like a prisoner?"

Everyone in the conference room made their agreement known as well. After contemplating this advice for a minute Damon stood up, his palms left visible prints of sweat on the polished table.

"Alright, I'll go brief the General Staff immediately. I want our task force mobilised right away. This comes directly from me. If this Joint Strike Force tries anything funny we'll be the first to take action," he concluded with finality, closing the report binder.

As everyone started to leave Damon said to the task force's naval liaison, "This includes your units too. Cancel the Marberry mission, put all your assets on a defensive footing but I want them ready to pounce on this American force should anything happen."

"Yes sir," answered Ruff enthusiastically, relived that the predicted failure for the operation would be averted.

This didn't mean he didn't have any reservations. If the reported size of this foreign task force was as large as the reports indicated, all the ships and marine Ruff had control over wouldn't stand a chance. Varrot then chose to approach her superior who was tapping his fingers against his glistening brow while staring at the surface of the folder in front of him. She waited a moment and then cleared her throat for the General's attention. When Damon slowly turned to face her, the room had already emptied.

"With your permission, shall I brief the General Staff in your stead? You look like you've seen better days," she said, not trying to sound like she wanted to upstage him or show too much concern.

Damon waved her away, saying, "Do it. I don't feel well enough."

The possibility of an invading force from the west coast was too much for the General; even his ego was swept aside in his despondency. Varrot on the other hand had high hopes. If only the top brass of Gallia's military could see it too and not fall into the same hole as General Damon…

* * *

Welkin, Alicia, Largo, Aika and Vyse sat in the back of a Black Hawk helicopter with General Blaise as it swept low fast across western Gallia towards the Amtriain military base. A second Black Hawk carried additional personnel and a security contingent with four AH-80 Blackfoot gunships as an escort. Somewhere off in the distance, high above them, they were being tracked by an E2 Hawkeye and a flight of Super Hornets from the Enterprise. For their own protection, that's what the General claimed. Of course, the Hornets were armed for ground attack in addition to their air-to-air missiles and the Gallians recognised the bombs for what they were. Welkin and Alicia tried not to dwell on the implications by immersing themselves with the view outside their helicopter, watching the treetops speed by down below.

"Wow… it had always been a dream of mine to fly" remarked Welkin, "If Isara could see me now," Welkin paused and went on, "she'd always wanted to make that wish come true."

"You and Isara never told me that," said Alicia, turning wide eyed to Welkin, the ground was moving by so fast under their feet that it was uncomfortable to watch, "how does it feel now that you've fulfilled it?"

He looked back at her and grinned, "You have no idea Alicia."

Vyse and Aika seemed perfectly at home for some reason unlike Largo who was struggling to hold onto his lunch.

"Hey Largo, look outside, we just passed over the largest veggie patch that you'll ever see," said Vyse, smiling at him and pointing out the window.

"Leave him alone, it's his first time remember?" Aika gave him a shove, "Relax Largo. Ignore Vyse and close your eyes."

The lancer could only groan in response, hunching over in his seat. Blaise who was sitting next to him passed him another sick bag. Vyse and Aika had already donated theirs.

"Thanks, sorry about that," Largo said weakly.

"No worries, it's not an easy experience flying for the first time. Everyone responds differently to it like your friends here," the General replied understandingly and gestured to the others, "you'll get used to it soon enough."

Largo's response was drowned out when he heaved into the bag.

"General Blaise do you think you will be asked to involve yourselves in our war and if you are, will you?" Welkin posed the question that had been bugging him ever since they met.

"I've been thinking the same thing Lieutenant Gunther but it will depend on what your government asks of us," Blaise replied after a pause to about it, "I understand it's not our war but we're here at your mercy and if what you've told me is as bad as it seems, I think we will be asked to fight."

It was growing dark outside, the sun was setting and Ft Amtriain came into view after the helicopters crested over a forested ridge. The massive sprawling complex surrounded by light forests and grassland was covered with bright dots as the lights came on. Out in the distance beyond the base, the city of Randgriz was visible, the castle and its tower, illuminated with light.

"Woooww, who knew that the city look could so pretty," exclaimed Alicia, leaning forward.

* * *

Down on the ground Squad 7 and everyone else on the base had gathered on the flat clearing in the centre of the base as the helicopters came into view with a buzz that seemed unearthly to all present. The larger Black Hawks prepared to land while the four gunships circled over protectively.

Isara was jumping up and down with excitement where she'd pushed to get to the front of the crowd. The helicopters landed one after the other and Welkin, Alicia, Vyse and Aika hopped out, grinning from ear to ear. Largo followed, taking a shaky step before falling flat on his face.

Squad 7 approached first, followed by Varrot.

"Welkin, you made it! You got to fly! The captain told us about what happened to you…" All of this tumbled out of Isara in a blur.

The rest of the Squad surrounded the four, bombarding them with questions while Rosie and Jann Walker helped Largo get to his feet.

"Geez, now I know what it takes to make you limp as a fish," commented Rosie.

"Don't worry Largo, we'll get you all fixed up in no time," said Jann.

Varrot looked on with amusement and then turned to face General Blaise as he approached. The general's trained eyes picked out the sentries standing at the front of the milling crowd, their weapons pointed at the ground. Some of them held rocket propelled grenade launchers known as 'lances'. Flanked by a pair of bodyguards he walked up to Varrot and they exchanged salutes before shaking hands.

"General Blaise, I'm Captain Varrot, we spoke earlier," the captain said, taking note of the JSF troops who'd moved to form something of a cordon between the general and the helicopters.

"A pleasure, Captain," he said with a smile.

"I was instructed to bring you to the meeting as soon as possible," said Varrot, adjusting her glasses slightly.

Blaise was just short of six feet tall but seemed to be far more physically intimidating than most other flag officers she'd encountered and a great deal more fit than a certain general officer she knew. Other features included dark brown hair shaved into a crew cut in a style similar to that of the Gallian Royal Marines. Brown eyes, the left one a little more closed than the other, set in a face with one cheek hollower than the right. This facial asymmetry was thanks to a truck collision while he was a platoon leader in Bosnia. The riot visor on his helmet saved the rest of his head that day and possibly his career.

Blaise nodded, saying "I understand, but first I would like to see Lt Reyes first."

Varrot was prepared for this and had wrangled with the General Staff over this until she'd gotten a satisfactory response. "Understood sir. The General Staff however would prefer not to be kept waiting."

The JSF officer stifled a sigh and answered patiently, "Respectfully Captain Varrot. We've already discussed this earlier. I will only meet with your superiors as soon as I'm satisfied that all personnel under my command are being treated well."

Varrot hesitated but relented, "Fair enough. I'll let them know. Please follow me."

She turned and spoke into her walkie talkie before saying to Squad 7, "Ok Squad the evening's off so you're all free."

"Hey Welkin," asked Aika who overheard the conversation, "Why's General Blaise going to see that guy who was brought in by the other team?"

"Haven't a clue, I suppose he is looking after his own people," he replied.

General Blaise followed Varrot followed by his entourage up to the main doors of the HQ building where a squad of military policemen were waiting.

"I apologise for this sir but you and everyone with you must hand in your weapons if you wish to proceed further."

Blaise looked around and saw that they were being shadowed by more sentries. He complied, unholstering his pistol from his belt and handing over carefully. At this the MPs stepped forward and began claiming the weapons from the Americans.

"Very well then. You may now proceed." Their CO unlocked the door and the guards stepped aside for him.

* * *

The interior of the main buildings of Ft Amtriain was rarely seen by enlisted personnel unless they were on guard duty. Normally the level of activity within administrative and bureaucratic centres of the Gallian military was comparable to the interior of beehives or the lairs of other eusocial creatures. The level of cooperation between the 'workers, drones and castes' however was up for debate. Tonight, despite the commotion outside, there was still a fair amount of activity in here. The war stops for no one and the work in here cannot halt for anything short of an incursion or artillery barrage. Officers and couriers stalked through the corridors, halting and staring at the new arrivals before scurrying out of the way. Varrot could hear doors opening behind them and scuffling as the occupants came out to see after they'd passed.

When they reached the hospital wind Blaise instructed the rest to remain behind while Varrot led him to the isolation wards. The staff had been warned ahead of time to expect visitors so most of the patients were shuffled around out of the way. Those who couldn't be moved had the curtains drawn. The moment the General stepped through the door Allen, who was surprised beyond belief sat up as best he could.

"You can relax," said Blaise, waving him down.

"Sir I had no idea you were here at first, let alone the rest of the task force. Varrot told me," Allen started but was interrupted.

"I could hardly believe it myself Lieutenant. But I heard about what happened to your team," Blaise said but added quickly as Allen's head sunk, "now listen carefully. I don't have long to talk. Self-pity isn't an excuse that is going to help you anymore since all of us are in the same boat and up a shit creek with no paddles."

Varrot watched from behind the soundproof glass of the door before receiving an impatient warning from her walkie talkie. The General Staff were getting impatient. Five minutes later Blaise came out.

"Lead the way Captain."

They walked faster this time and a few minutes later they were at the door to the room where the meeting would be taking place. Pausing, Blaise took the only thing he needed, a top of the line tablet with a holographic user interface – capable of making presentations for conferences. Varrot eyed the device curiously, to her it looked like a glass and metal slate but after seeing the technology the 'strangers' possessed, (this was sounding more and more like a science fiction novel to her) it likely served a function that the general intended to impress the General Staff with.

Varrot pushed the door open and the two of them entered. The conference room was long and a fittingly lengthy polished wooden table took up the centre, sitting atop a rug. Adorning the room walls were paintings, many of them of a martial or patriotic theme. In here was assembled the highest ranked officers of the Gallian military. The Chief of the General Staff of the Gallian Armed Forces sat at the head of the table with the service heads of the Army and Navy on either side of him. Damon was far lower on the pecking order and was closer to the middle of the table. The other half of the table was vacant for Blaise and his officers. After the senior officers returned Varrot and Blaise's salutes, everyone commenced their seats. Varrot took hers next to Damon as his assistant for the meeting while Blaise at the other end of the table.

"Major General Blaise. It's my pleasure to be the first in an official capacity, to cordially welcome you to the Principality of Gallia. I hope you enjoyed the tour of Fort Amtriain. There's plenty more to be seen," the Chief of the General Staff began and then referenced Blaise's premature tour of the building to meet Allen.

Blaise returned with the usual round of pleasantries and apologised for the delay before getting down to business. It was going to be a long evening.

* * *

Back on the field Welkin was having a hard time keeping Isara from getting too close to the helicopters. By then, the crowd had thinned considerably. The gunships had flown a distance away out of sight but still within range. The American soldiers guarding the Black Hawks weren't terribly talkative so the curious were quickly disappointed when they couldn't elicit any conversation. Nor could anyone get past them. To Isara's delight though, a couple of brave members from the Black Hawk crews made their way over to Welkin and Isara. They stopped briefly to explain to one of the guards, who reluctantly let them pass.

Welkin let go of Isara then as they came nearer. In a flash, she was over there in front of the two pilots, rapidly firing off questions excitedly. His sister's enthusiasm clearly made a good impression on the two helicopter pilots who seemed more than happy to indulge her.

Alicia then sidled up to the Lieutenant and said, "Now you know what it's like when Isara sees you discovering a new insect specimen."

Laughing quietly, Welkin answered, "You say that like it's a bad thing Alicia."

"Of course not," said Alicia, "I haven't seen Isara this ecstatic before," and then a little more wistfully, "I guess you must really cherish memories like these."

Solemnly, Welkin agreed with a nod and said, "I haven't seen her like this in a long time." He didn't say since their father had passed away.

A little while later later, the field was mostly empty except for the helicopters, the crews, Isara, Welkin and Alicia and the American and Gallian guards who were facing each other a good distance apart. At that time, Rosie came running over from the barracks.

"There you are! We were wondering why you didn't show up!" the shocktrooper exclaimed as she reached Welkin and Alicia. She stopped when she saw Isara was still chatting to the two helicopter crewmembers.

"Oh come on! You're letting her hold the rest of us up?" she complained, hands on her hips as she watched Isara disapprovingly.

Alicia glanced at her watch. It's time to go now. They've hung around long enough and that meeting in the headquarters wasn't ending any time soon. Welkin realised this too so he walked over to Isara, still engrossed in the conversation with the American pilots.

"Come on Isara, we need to go now," said Welkin, taking her by the arm, "Sorry if she was a bother."

"She wasn't any," replied one of the pilots, grinning back at him. Welkin thought the helmet the man was holding under his arm looked vaguely bug eyed but he wisely didn't say it aloud.

"I'm Captain Worswick. I'm the pilot for that helicopter over there," the man introduced himself and pointed to the Black Hawk furthest away and said, "I'll let my colleague introduce herself now."

The woman standing next to Worswick nodded and said, "Lieutenant Stringer. Co-pilot of the other vehicle over there." She pointed to the helo which was closest before going on, "Worswick and I sometimes pilot the same chopper though."

Isara tried to wriggle out of Welkin's grip but couldn't. As she made to open her mouth to speak, Welkin interrupted her. "It's been nice meeting you both Captain Worswick and Lieutenant Stringer. I'm Lieutenant Gunther. You've met Isara, my little sister right?"

The two pilots reacted to this with surprise. Normally close family members weren't allowed to serve in the same unit in the US military. Welkin meanwhile was concerned with dragging Isara away now. Helplessly, he looked over to Alicia behind him but saw that she was talking to Rosie.

"Uhh. We'll see you two again I'm sure," Worswick called out as the two Gallians moved away, Isara still struggling against Welkin.

Once Isara and Welkin were far enough away, Isara was sulking, keeping her distance from her brother. Rosie didn't say anything as she had Welkin and Alicia between her and the Darcsen.

"What's she so upset about? They said they'll try and make contact again," Alicia questioned Welkin quietly.

"Isara wanted a ride. She's just jealous," answered Welkin, trying to sound upbeat about it. She hadn't been like this either since their father had died.

* * *

**8 May, 1935**

**Elsaß - Atlantic Federation **

Elsaß is one of the major capital cities of the Atlantic Federation. Once upon a time it was a strategic town between several rival nations which had set aside their differences and others to establish themselves as the joint superpower of West Europa. Where soldiers once hid and ducked in between the hovels and ruins, sniping at one another; politicians, envoys and bureaucrats duelled with pens and armour piercing quips; drafting treaties and motions. The soldiers however, were never far off; ready to be summoned with the push of a panic button or an order cabled to HQ. The city had grown enormously ever since - becoming a political centre for the Atlantic Federation. It was here that several momentous treaties and compromises were negotiated and ratified, shaping the Federation had occurred.

Immediately after the order was issued that morning, Federal soldiers, gendarmes and metropolitan police had fanned out across the streets and the suburbs of Elsaß. Officially it was supposed to be an exercise but the public were allowed to go about their business. The government district was quarantined with all non-essential personnel sent home early. Violators were detained on sight and immediately turned over to the police. After questioned thoroughly by personnel from various agencies, the detainees were held in police custody regardless of whether they were charged or not. Those who checked out; had to wait until the next morning for just that, along with a cursory apology when the lockdown was lifted. The roadblocks and fortifications went up, reinforced by armoured fighting vehicles at vital transport junctions. A procession of convoys arrived, carrying more reinforcements from the Federal Army. The city, with the exception of the government district which was locked down, continued to run as usual but at a slower pace. This was thanks to the efforts of the police which played a critical role guiding the traffic through the disruptions caused by this security operation. Meanwhile, special forces soldiers, some pulled from other assignments were guarding critical infrastructure and high value personnel or in standby out of sight.

That evening, once the preparations were complete, a lone train rolled into one of the hardened underground stations beneath the government district. This section of the city metro network was reserved only for ferrying VIPs through and out of the city. Even the fortified tunnels were guarded by steel gates, heavy weapons and sentries who control power to the trains or divert them or both in an emergency. Elite troops on the platform quickly escorted the passengers after they alighted from the train. There was little ceremony needed for this quick backdoor entrance. Going in the front with an honour guard, band and red carpet would only attract attention, even if the city was plunged into an immediate curfew.

The Atlantic Federation soldiers did not know who these dignitaries were. All they saw of them were strange uniforms of a military cut they correctly guessed. Whoever they were, they were clearly important enough that the Atlantic Federation's Council decided to grant them an audience. By the early hours of the morning, the hosts would have signed one of the most important treaties since the Atlantic Charter and their new guests and allies have found a place and purpose in this world.


	6. New Assignment

**Got some folks to acknowledge for technical advice and background planning such as Tomcat Lover and Turtler most recently. I've made a couple of edits on the prevopis chapter, mainly to do with the Atlantic Federation so go over for a recap. I hope to release another chapter soon so sorry for the wait.  
**

**Why aren't there any F-35s a reviewer asked? Where are all the toys? I'm not going to answer that right away. It's not hard to work it out if you read and it's no good spilling it all straight away. I will make an effort to put more into expanding the backstory for both Endwar and Valkyria Chronicles. For further enquiries, feel free to page me.  
**

* * *

It had been a week since General Blaise and the Principality of Gallia came to an agreement. The Joint Strike Force was essentially homeless and without a mission while Gallia was still on the back foot despite the hard-won victories at Kloden and Vasel. The answer to both their problems was simple; Prime Minister Maurits von Borg offered them refuge in return for their services in defending the country. A joint US-Gallian command was to be established in which JSF personnel would be attached as advisors and specialists to Gallian units where needed. This included combat operations, training and support. The rest of the American forces will remain under a separate chain of command to the Gallians.

Meanwhile only a trickle of JSF personnel and equipment was leaving FOB McMasters this was because of a massive quarantine effort in an effort to stymie the impact of any foreign species that may also have made the 'transition'. The base perimeter was sealed off with high mesh fences to prevent anything as small as insects getting through. A moat around the base two kilometres out was dug and every living thing needed to be sterilised in case any foreign species may have escaped. This wasn't difficult with intersecting high-powered microwave fields. Catchers and hunter teams moved in to sweep up the survivors. Entrances to the base were staffed with decontamination teams which sanitised every person and piece of equipment in transit.

The quarantine extended to any form of media which were brought by the Americans, most of them called it censorship. The operation was centred aboard the USS Bannerman, a _Clarance E. Walsh_-class ship, popularly dubbed as E-Frigates. With the growing importance of electronic and cyberwarfare capabilities, future _Walsh_ cruisers were given the go-ahead in the mid 2010s, years after the lead vessel was sunk. Additionally, these ships could also support the functions of missile defence Uplinks, making them one of the most valuable assets in any fleet. Over 9000 terabytes of pornography and other material had been purged within the day when the ad-hoc censorship committee aboard the Bannerman began scouring through the JSF intranet. There was to be no unauthorised communications from the outside to the interior until the quarantine had run its course.

* * *

At Ft Amtriain the first signs of change were evident. Just beyond the outer perimeter fence, numerous construction vehicles and workers were breaking up the ground, levelling it and setting down the concrete. Around the rest of the base, new buildings going up, some were mere extensions of existing ones while others were prefabricated structures, hastily moved into place. There was some debate over the use of the main field in the centre of the base which had easy access to the rest of Ft Amtriain and the main construction site outside. The Americans wanted to land their helicopters there until a proper airstrip could be laid down while the Gallians needed the field intact for training. They managed to reach a compromise in which the Gallians vacated the motor pool and vehicle training section of the field as a temporary heliport.

JSF personnel could be seen around the base; the majority were staff officers who returned to their own quarters when they were finished. Combat personnel who were just field advisors and liaisons for now, were allowed to billet in the same barracks as the Gallian units they were with.

Welkin was watching a caterpillar crawl along the windowsill in his office that morning, listening to the Drill Instructor Sergeant Calvaro 'Ramrod' Rodriguez exhorting Squad 7 during a PT exercise.

"One Mile!" bellowed Rodriguez as he jogged alongside the Squad.

"One Mile!" the Squad repeated, as they jogged around the base in the clear morning sun.

"Aint Shit!" he shouted.

"Aint Shit!" they followed.

"Two Miles!" he continued.

"Two Miles!"

"Ramrod must have learnt that from the Americans. I've been hearing new cuss words from him ever since we've been cross training with them."

Welkin jumped at hearing Faldio Landzaat voice so suddenly from behind.

"Geez Faldio was that really necessary?" spluttered Welkin in surprise.

"Your door was open and knowing you and your interests it was easy to get in close," Faldio replied with a grin and then noticing the refreshing drop in the mercury after he'd entered. "Wow it's cool in here."

"It's the air conditioners that Isara made last month. I predicted a temperature rise so she made one for my office and the recreation room," said Welkin.

"Been paying attention to GBS weather reports?" asked Faldio, eyeing the radio on his friend's desk, though he strongly suspected something else.

"No, I just measured the number of cricket chirps per minute outside my office, subtracted 40 from the figure, then divided the result by 7 and added 10 to the quotient to get an approximation of the temperature in Celsius. I graphed the results over a week and predicted the trend."

Faldio stared at him blankly and said, "Welkin… you can just use a thermometer you know, or better still, listen to the radio," he sighed and continued, "Anyway the Captain needs to see all Squad commanders about our new advisors and specialists."

He quickly compared his chronometer to the clock on Welkin's wall and started to leave. Welkin turned to look at the caterpillar but in its place stood a magpie with a full beak. Shaking his head he followed.

"How many of these Americans are there?" asked Welkin while he folloed in the hallway.

It was uncomfortably warm outside his air conditioned room so he unbuttoned his field jacket a little; not as much as Faldio though. He was always pushing it with uniform regulations, something Varrot had to remind him at every second briefing.

"There are a significant number of them. Approximately two battalions, a brigade and a marine expeditionary unit whatever that is. I estimate the last about the size of a regiment," answered Faldio, quickly stepping to the side to allow a courier pushing a trolley of packages pass, "Two brigades altogether."

Welkin, almost walking into the trolley before his friend pulled him aside, was thinking aloud, "Compared to what the Empire is throwing at us, it doesn't seem like that much. Nonetheless, I'm glad we've got help. I hope at least some of us feel the same way I do."

Faldio agreed with a nod as he continued on. "The Empire already knew our order of battle, how well manned our units were and how many were operational before they struck. It'll be a bit of a shock when they learn of this – hopefully this will throw them and their strategy off balance."

"I'm sure we'll hear more about that later. Do you know much help the Militia will be getting?" Welkin asked as they stopped and knocked on the door of the Captain's office.

"Beats me, apparently Damon's been jumping up and down around the General Staff for a while now," answered Faldio lightly, leaning against the door, "If we do get help, for once I'll be grateful to him."

At that moment they heard Varrot beckoning them to enter. Faldio straightened up before pushing open the door. As they stepped in, they could see one side of the room lined with the other Militia Squad COs from 3rd Regiment. Opposite them stood an equal number of American officers from the Joint Strike Force. Standing next to Varrot stood one of them, a man with a tan beret under his left shoulder strap and captain's bars. As soon as Welkin and Faldio had saluted Varrot and the American next to her, the former called everyone to attention.

Once everything was settled, she started speaking, "As you may know, American personnel will be attached to all branches of the Gallian military including the Militia. Each Militia squad will be assigned an officer from the Joint Strike Force as an advisor and liaison and a pool of JSF combat and support specialists will be shared between every two squads. This is Captain Torres, he will tell you more."

The American stepped forward and addressed the room, "I'm Captain Javier Torres, 75th United States Army Ranger Regiment, Joint Strike Force. I will be in charge of all American personnel with the Gallian Militia of the 3rd Regiment."

He continued with a cursory introduction which everyone already knew by them, "Joint Strike Force personnel are derived from all branches of the United States Armed Forces and have undergone vigorous training and selection procedures in line with Special Operations Command to become what they are. The purpose of having us working together is to augment the capabilities of the Gallian military and to familiarise with each other's tactics, strategies and equipment. All of this is to improve interoperability of our forces in the future."

As he rambled on a bit more, Varrot and many of the others, Gallian and American, particularly the jaded ones noticed how stiff that speech of his sounded. It was almost like hearing a prepared speech. Torres was no politician though, he didn't like this song and dance routine either but it was necessary to get this done and out of the way. There was no mistaking that Torres was a warrior through and through. The tense muscles visible on his forearm and neck but well hidden under his Multicam uniform with the Ranger Tab sewn on was evidence enough. He had his hair cut short so it was difficult to tell its colour was black. Welkin and Varrot thought he looked like he could take on Largo, with a pretty good chance of winning too.

"If there are problems with the people you've been assigned please refer either one of us," said Varrot, she then began reading off the list of names of the Americans and then the squad they were assigned as well its commander.

As each name was called the American and the Gallian officer shook hands and were given a folder containing new orders by Torres before leaving the room. A few minutes later it was just Faldio and Welkin left as the Gallians but the only American left was a grey eyed woman with dark hair in a very short ponytail, curling up against the back of her head.

"I got dibs on that one. Who'll be the lucky one out of us?" whispered Faldio to Welkin.

"Huh?" Squad 7's commander was fixated on something else but Faldio couldn't see what it was, fortunately neither of the captains noticed Welkin's inattention. When he finally saw who his friend was referring to, Welkin asked, "Are you trying to set me up on a blind date?"

Faldio released a breath in exasperation, saying, "You're missing the point totally but unsurprisingly."

"2nd Lieutenant Avril Dolburn you're assigned to Squad 1, 2nd Lieutenant Faldio Landzaat is its commanding officer," announced Varrot.

"Lucky me," breathed Faldio under his breath to Welkin before stepping forward but before shaking hands with Avril he realised that there wasn't anyone left.

"Excuse me Captain but what about Lieutenant Gunther?" he asked to Varrot.

Varrot looked up at the remaining occupants in the room and then back down at the list again, "Oh I'm sorry about this but I've crossed off just about everyone here on the list, you'll have to wait until Captain Torres can arrange for someone else."

She suspected that Damon placed Squad 7 in a lower priority until Avril spoke up, "How about Lt Reyes? He's a friend and the last I checked on him he's ready to be discharged from the hospital tomorrow."

Despite the best efforts of Blaise to prevent his identity from being leaked to the rest of the Americans, word had evidently spread about Allen. Thankfully it was mostly a short lived rumour that only revived momentarily whenever a new batch of people stepped out of the MacMasters quarantine for the first time.

Torres pressed a finger into his cheek as he thought and said, "He's the last one from Captain Franks' team I remember and one of the first to make contact. Most of us have heard of him."

"I don't know, he was quite shaken up when I spoke to him. Though it's not really my place to comment I think he should be given something to do as soon as he's discharged." Varrot turned to Torres for his opinion.

The American captain's hand inched towards his tablet on the desk but

"So what's the verdict sir, ma'am?" asked Welkin hesitantly.

"I'll talk to Colonel Hanley and see if I can have him transferred," answered Torres with a shrug, "If not then it'll probably take at least a month to find someone else."

"Better than nothing I guess, well that's partly solved," said Faldio as he took his folder from Torres.

"We'll let you know if anything changes," concluded Varrot, "Alright you're dismissed."

Once Welkin, Faldio and Avril left the room Faldio turned on his charm and held out his hand, "I'm Faldio Landzaat, just Faldio will do."

"Well in that case, you will still have to refer to me as Lt Dolburn," she replied coolly and took the folder out of Faldio's other hand before shaking his offered hand.

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face for a moment but he quickly regained his composure with a smile. So it's going to be tough he thought. Welkin noticed this too but declined to comment, knowing his friend's reputation.

"Seems that Squad 1 and 7 will be sharing four specialists together," she remarked as she flipped through its contents.

"Because we'll be working together and by that I don't just mean you and Squad 1 but also you and I. How about we get to know one another better first? We can do lunch." Faldio tried again.

"I'm afraid I'll have to pass on that, I need to get my things organised in my new quarters as quickly as possible before we need to get busy. I'm a fast eater too so I don't think we'll be able to talk much either," she retorted and turned on her heel and started to leave.

"The most conceited woman I've ever met," whispered Faldio, "At least I won't need to get her number."

"If you were looking for a productive and professional working relationship I'd say you're on the right track, but name the first animal that comes into your head and I'll analogise-"

"Ok I get the idea," snapped Faldio.

* * *

The next morning Allen Reyes was awoken by one of the medics.

"Good morning Lieutenant," she greeted cheerily while dropping off a bundle of clothes at the foot of his bed, "You need to go see Captain Torres as soon as you're discharged. Here's your uniform and I've been told to let you know that all your personal effects have been moved onto the base. He should have more info for you about that."

"Thanks Gina," said Allen; he'd familiarised himself a little with the triplets during his week of recovery.

"You got it wrong again," she said and rolled her eyes, "Anyway here's something for you to eat and you can freshen up by the wash basin. The doctor will be in here to formally discharge you soon. "

"Alright thank you and remember to thank your sisters on by behalf as well," he called as she left.

He looked at the tray next to his bed which held his breakfast. Despite his disdain for the culinary skills at JSF school, he found the hospital menu here surprisingly good. The cheese wasn't processed like the stuff in MREs; the vegetables were fresh, not quick frozen and microwaved while the bread was top notch.

Once he was done he went over to the sink and unzipped the pouch hanging below the wall mounted mirror. It was a Gallian military issue personal hygiene kit, consisting of toothpaste (active ingredients being derived from a mineral called ragnite), toothbrush and small mirror etcetera. Pulling out a razor Allen stared at it uncertainly. He really needed a shave but he was too used to using an electronic shaver. At that moment he noticed in the mirror, a Gallian guard leaning idly against the door, watching him.

Did they think he was going to off himself with the razor? Allen wondered, especially after the incident of the previous week. Ignoring the guy, he tentatively started with the stubble on his neck going upwards. It took near nine minutes but as he was working on his sideburns the tick under his right eye pulsed again.

"Dammit!" he swore under his breath as he washed the blood off the razor and tried again as the guard clucked his tongue, whether in disapproval or sympathy it was unclear.

By the time he'd finished with a few more minor scrapes and brushed his teeth there was a knock on the door. The guard opened it and left as the doctor came in followed by a uniformed black woman with curly brown hair which was secured in a bun.

"This is Staff Sergeant Lydia Harris. She's one of several medical liaisons from the Joint Strike Force," the doctor said curtly, "Please sit down Lieutenant. This is just a final check-up before we can discharge you."

As she followed the doctor in, Lydia said, "Pleasure to meet you Lieutenant, hope you're recovery was good." She offered him a hand to shake.

"I can't really complain," Allen replied with a forced smile as the doctor worked on him with his stethoscope.

As he raised his arm to accept the handshake, the doctor clamped over it with a manometer cuff. He winced as the strap tightened over his elbow. It seemed a little uncomfortably tight for a blood pressure reading. The doctor also seemed a little abrupt in his manner Allen noted.

"So what exactly are you doing here?" he asked Lydia.

"Oh, I'm just here to work alongside the doctors and nurses here at the hospital. The brass wanted to ensure that medical procedures for both the Gallian and US forces can work together in the event of emergencies. It's really huge all this stuff that's going on now that we're working together because all the other branches have their counterparts…"

"Alright," interrupted Allen. Her speech was quite fast. "Are you like a doctor?" he asked.

"Not really, I'm with the Air Force Pararescue. I joined just after getting nursing degree from John Hopkins. I really wanted a frontline position and my CO promised that just as we left the States but everything changed last week as you may know and here I am back at a hospital…"

Allen's mouth dropped open at that, the doctor took advantage of this to stick a paddle-pop stick onto his tongue and peer down his throat with a penlight.

While this was happening Allen thought that meant Lydia wasn't just a nurse, she also had the sheer determination to complete 'Superman School'. A gruelling training process for the Pararescue unit which the highest dropout rate of all the other US Special Operations training courses. That made her an elite combat paramedic, a 'PJ' as they were informally known and a superwoman at that. It certainly made his ordeal in JSF training seem like a light PT session.

The doctor finished and as he stripped off his gloves he said, "Ok, seems you're in good health. I'm authorised on behalf of the American medical staff to give you these pills. They are for any pain and they also come from your stocks. The instructions of the prescription should be clear and if there're any problems consult one of your doctors." He handed Allen a bottle.

Now he understood what Lydia was going on about and why the doctor was seemed almost bitter. With different procedures it would be difficult for Gallian and US medics to work together. Even the simple task for a doctor to prescribe drugs to a patient of the other country will require consultation with his/her counterpart.

He accepted the bottle and thanked the doctor as he left. Before Lydia left to follow she bade him goodbye.

"Maybe we'll run into each other again, hopefully without you as a patient," she said as she shut the door behind her.

Once she was gone Allen turned to his bundle of clothes: his uniform fatigues, black combat boots and fingerless gloves and beret with the JSF insignia flash which incorporated his rank as well. His left arm flared up painfully when he raised it to pull on his shirt; he took a pill to keep the pain down. As he fitted on his beret and then pocketed it carefully, he felt the bandages covering his neck a feature that would stick out like a sore thumb. Feeling human once again he opened the door so see the same grunt waiting outside.

"Follow me sir," he said, turning on his heel when Allen had shut the door behind him.

They walked in silence out of the hospital wing, Allen ignoring the curious stares from the staff and patients. Here and there was an American officer but they seemed too busy to notice him. The headquarters building was vast and Allen realised how easily he could get lost in this place. Finally they stopped at a door.

"Here you are Lieutenant," the Gallian soldier spoke abruptly before leaving Allen, a little puzzled about his almost rude manner.

Apprehensively he knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Pushing open the door Allen saw Captain Torres standing behind a desk untidily covered with papers. An aide was working on a scanner in the corner before Torres shooed him out.

"2nd Lieutenant Allen Reyes reporting in sir," said Allen, saluting once the door was shut.

The layout of the room also reflected the state of the JSF. Filing cabinets open and boxes lying on the ground and lots of documents stacked everywhere. The previous occupant had clearly left in a hurry. Torres returned Allen's salute while the door closed on them again, leaving them alone.

"Have a seat Lieutenant Reyes," he beckoned to a chair, "just dump those papers on the ground, I'm burning all these hardcopies once I've had them digitised and archived."

Allen shook the pile of documents off the offered chair and sat while Torres walked around the desk and sat on its edge.

"I'm Captain Torres, I'm in charge of all JSF personnel who are with the 3rd Regiment of the Gallian Militia. You know what this these sorts of assignments entail I'm sure. Interoperability and all that stuff they say back in JSF school," said Torres, waving a hand about like he was holding an invisible cigarette between his fingers, "In other words, how not to confuse each other for the enemy and how to work together to defeat said enemy."

The Captain paused a moment and waited for Allen to ask any questions, when there was none forthcoming, he shrugged and went on, "Colonel Hanley, your battalion CO agreed to transfer you to a role as our liaison and advisor to Squad 7 of the 3rd Regiment which is under 2nd Lieutenant Welkin Gunther. I'm not going to waste time talking about what happened to you that day. I've only received the dot points and General Blaise has spoken to you at length about it before so that's between you and him."

Allen didn't answer, somewhat glad that Torres wasn't going to talk about his last assignment which had gone disastrously bad. Sergeant Terry's passing

"Well Lieutenant, I know you and all of us have been briefed by the General on what the hell is going on. Can't say much has changed so let's not focus on why or how we're here. I'm sure there are just as many thinkers and scientists in this world as our own who can talk both your ears off if you give them a tilt at answering that. On the other hand I'm sure your generation has seen more than enough science fiction or browsed the internet to death or both to have your ideas."

Torres got up and walked up to a map of an unfamiliar continent on a corkboard. He was right to a degree; Allen had seen his fair share of sci-fi shows, novels, anime and manga and browsed the internet a lot but he kept his theories to himself while his new commanding officer continued to speak.

"You've heard that saying before about how the Army doesn't send you where you want or even where you're best suited for but sends you where you're needed." The Captain pointed straight onto the continent labelled as Europa. "And it seems all of us are needed here and all of us are needed for this war.

Allen had already seen this map before, recognised the borders for what they were but he'd only caught snippets of what exactly was going on. Blaise and everyone else who'd spoken to him had only given him hints of the events in progress.

"If I were to fill you in on the context of the region it'll take us the rest of the day. I'll tell you this much." Torres ripped the map off the corkboard and sat behind his desk while placing it on his desk to Allen could see.

"Here's the Principality of Gallia," said the Captain as he pointed to a small country shaded in blue on the north of the continent. "They were kind enough to offer us a new home provided we help them fight."

He pointed to the western half of the continent which was shaded in white. "Here's the Atlantic Federation, they resemble the Eurotrash that we'd been fighting and they're at war with the Autocratic East Europan Imperial Alliance."

Torres paused, observing Allen's cock of the head and added, "I'm serious. That's its official name. At least it doesn't pretend to claim it's democratic or anything like that."

He indicated the east of the continent in red with his third finger. "They're an autocratic alliance of states like I said. It looks like Czarist Russia with an Emperor as head of state. All you need to know now is that Gallia is being invaded by the Empire." Torres pulled another map off the stack of folders behind his seat and laid it on top of the one already on the desk. This one was of Gallia and the foreign territories on its borders. It already had pen marks to indicate the Imperial lines of advance into the country as well as a line indicating how much of the country had already been taken.

"Blaise and we have been asked to 'assist Gallian defensive operations in any way practical' which is our mandate to blow stuff up, namely Imperial forces and their allies," Torres concluded quickly and then crossed his arms, waiting for questions from Allen. "Anything more you want to learn about this world is to be done in your own time because I won't give you a history or geography lesson."

"Wait a sec, since we have no way of getting home how are we getting resupplied? I mean the Empire is huge, it doesn't look like we can take them on," spoke Allen after a moment of consideration, feeling that he should say something even though he didn't have any specific questions yet.

"I was just getting to that and you're right, we've only got what we brought with us. Transportation and logistics now have priority so they have the lion's share of the diesel and JP-8 for the time being. Because of that, we're down to the absolute minimum for air cover from the combat birds we've brought," Torres continued, tapping a finger on the desk blotter. "If the Gallians could help with the easier tasks we'll save a lot of time and resources but their logistics too are strained at best. That doesn't mean they won't try. We'll have to let their engineers to study our vehicle designs so we can adapt to the local fuel source."

Allen listened and rubbed at the corner of his eye before asking, "I thought they would were classified sir?"

"We're in a bad position Lieutenant. That's before we get into equipment and weapon incompatibility. Most of our kit is still being checked out at the quarantine so it's piecemeal for the time being. We may have to begin using locally produced stuff later once we've used everything down to the roll of toilet paper at MacMasters."

Allen's new commanding officer's face winced momentarily, he knew how bad it was hearing it from others and reading about it but passing the news on to others did nothing to lessen the impact on himself. Meanwhile, Allen felt his latest meal bubbling up in his stomach briefly while he listened.

"Now about the opposition, the Imperials are low tech by our standards so electronic strikes won't do jack against them," Torres recounted from another briefing, "And without satellite and Uplink assets our overall capability and range is reduced to say… 30-40%."

Allen leaned back, taking all of this in. He and the rest of the Force had set off on their mission, confident that they could deliver the killing blow to the enemy and hasten the end of the war. Now they were fighting a defensive war with poor odds and without support.

"Leave the bigger picture to the rest of us. That's what I've been told also," said Torres, also getting back into his chair and leaning on it. "I've ranted enough at you about where we stand. You're getting Squad 7 whether you like it or not. Lt Gunther has already had combat experience and from what I've heard, his unit is doing well."

Torres handed Allen a thick folder.

"The Squad is out fixing their gear and they'll be back after lunch. Make sure you read these and you also need to know the men and women behind the pages. If you do that you'll do just fine." I haven't met them either admittedly but I'll get around to them, squad by squad."

Allen sighed thinking there's no point in arguing further and glanced at the list on top of the folder and then Captain Varrot's name. "Do I report to both of you?"

"Yes, I made that clear earlier so don't forget that you'll answer to her as well," Torres replied, "Sergeant Melchiott is the most senior NCO if I recall correctly. It says so in the preface Lieutenant Gunther wrote." The Captain leaned forward and lifted up the front of the folder briefly to see if it was in there. "Yeah, the very first page you see."

"Understood sir." Allen hefted the folder and placed it under his arm while Torres clasped his hands together loudly and looked him in the eye. "Now you be good and do as the sergeant tells you. Learn from them and teach them how we do things as well."

"Do you understand that you will have a responsibility in leading the Squad as well? I want Squad 7 mobile when Varrot or I say 'move' and to jump when either of us give the word." Torres' eyes bore into Allen as they both stood up and the latter made ready to go.

"Understood sir."

"Good Lieutenant. I have a habit of keeping a shit list and I have a stronger habit of finding names for it. Don't give me a reason to pencil in your name there. You're dismissed Lieutenant Reyes."

* * *

The VIP modified Mi-55 Locust helicopter, banked and circled over Kbely Air Force Base. Once belonging to the Czech Air Force, Kbely AFB served as the primary forward base for Russian air operations in Western Europe. The helicopter and its occupants were escorted by a squadron of heavily armed and armoured Ka-65 Howler gunships and their older but still formidable cousins, Ka-52 Alligators.

On the vast runways two brigades of the Spetsnaz Guard Brigades the best fighting force in Russia, snapped to attention as the helicopter landed. Behind the elite soldiers were the vehicles and their crews; the most powerful hardware the world has ever seen in terms of armaments. Chief among them were the T-100 Ogre main battle tanks and the Zhukov double barrelled artillery. In addition to their fearsome array of weaponry, many of the Spetsnaz vehicles bristled with additional mounted weapons; anti-aircraft guns and flamethrowers being popular.

Flanking the Spetsnaz was two more brigades from the Russian army, many of them being light infantry and VDV paratroopers. The mechanised troops beside them, stood before their armoured carriers and infantry fighting vehicles. Further down were the tanks, self-propelled guns, rocket and anti-aircraft artillery. Stored inside the hangers behind the tarmac were dozens of helicopters and fixed wing aircraft. Besides the airlifters and tankers, one the most vital components of the aviation regiment stationed at Kbley was the A-50 AEWC aircraft. After that were combat aircraft made by Mikoyan and Sukhoi including the squadron of Su-38 Slamhound strike fighters and a flight of Su-41 Firefox stealth jets, a joint Indo-Russian development. Altogether it was a mix of old and new systems, most of the former dating back before the 2008 Baltic War and the following Second Russian Civil War.

Prince Maximilian remained composed as he looked out the window of the helicopter at the display which was evidently meant to impress and intimidate. The main concern he had now was whether to share this discovery with his father, the Emperor and the rest of the Empire. The rest of his generals for the Gallian campaign, consisting of Major General Berthold Gregor, Brigadier General Selveria Bles and Major General Jaeger couldn't help but sense the dilemma playing out in the Prince as he turned his eyes back to them coldly.

"I'm still uncertain about including him in on our briefings. His insistence on being treated as an equal and our reluctance nearly got General Jaeger killed," Gregor spoke up while Jaeger couldn't help but smirk at this coming from his rival.

For once Selveria had to agree whole heartedly with the eldest of them all, saying, "I must concur with General Gregor on this matter your Grace. To think that the he would dictate terms-"

She was silenced by a lofty tilt of the head from Maximilian, who said, "I must admit that Major General Bronislav Lukin's audacity is refreshing from all accounts. In fact I am looking forward to this meeting."

"Well Brody as he likes to be called is an interesting fellow," said Jaeger, leaning back in his seat, "He's amiable enough and a good salesman but I haven't haggled with him long enough to get a full picture." At this point, he contemplatively crossed his arms and said, "On the other hand I don't think he was bluffing when he stated his preparedness to get his point across by force so to speak."

He was the first to personally meet the Russian general during preliminary negotiations. Contact was made just as FOB Lujbaton was half razed by the Spetsnaz choppers and a stand down order was issued immediately by their commanding officer. In the confusion, Maximilian was sequestered at Ghirlandaio and was quickly joined by Selvaria on the grounds of his safety. The Prince however was quietly displeased that Selvaria chose not to stay at her post, the invasion's eastern front which was the closest to this new crisis. Jaeger instead hurried to the eastern border after regrouping most of the Imperial forces in the southern front after the loss of FOB Kloden. Temporarily taking command of Selvaria's forces, he set out to confront this unknown force. Contact was made peacefully with the interlopers before Jaeger radioed Maximilian back at Ghirlandaio who authorised him to act as his emissary until proper negotiations could begin. When Jaeger was unable to report back for a while, his adjutant who wasn't involved, noted to Maximilian that the standoff had gotten tense while Jaeger treated with the newcomers. At one point, the soldiers on both sides had their safeties off before they were stood down. Hours later, both sides withdrew their forces and Jaeger headed immediately to Ghirlandaio to report back to Maximilian in person.

The helicopter finally landed in front of the assembled troops and the crew ran out to open the doors. First to alight were the bodyguards for the Imperial delegation, spec ops soldiers loyal only to Maximilian. He and Drei Stern alighted when their troops had fanned out in a protective screen in front of the helicopter. Before them were two columns of Wolves, elite light infantry of the Spetsnaz Guards, kitted out in full combat gear like their Imperial counterparts opposite. The impromptu Russian honour guard remained motionless while Maximilian glanced about slowly, trying not to look too concerned at the absence of anyone else to greet him. Selvaria, Gregor and Jaeger though were on edge, standing just far enough apart to go for their pistol holsters unhindered. No one spoke or moved until the pilot from the helicopter arrived, walking behind and around the Imperials and stopping in between the Russian and Imperial troops. As he walked, he removed his flight helmet, running a hand through his black hair to straighten it out a little. It was then that Jaeger relaxed and chuckled a little after noticing the pilot's name and rank insignia on his fatigues. After pocketing his sunglasses and putting on his field cap, the pilot saluted.

"Welcome Prince Maximilian your highness, it's a true pleasure and honour to have you and your most trusted generals as our guests today," said General Lukin after Maximilian acknowledged his salute with a nod.

"I see they were right, General Lukin, when they said you were an interesting man," answered Maximilian, who remained straight faced while the Drei Stern except Jaeger stiffened in shock.

"As for what my newest friend, General Jaeger has inferred from our chat; you have nothing to fear from me, I had assured him myself before we parted," continued Lukin, catching Jaeger's eye over Maximilian's shoulder and nodding, "But enough of standing here, you'll want to stretch your legs I'm sure. Come and join me in inspecting the men and women at our command. The time for talk can come later."

"_So he was listening to us while we were inside the helicopter, how unconventional of him. He'll be very good for what I've got in mind, though we should have him on a short leash_," thought Maximilian, following along with the Drei Stern and bodyguards in tow.


End file.
